BY-  S-WE1R 
MITCHELL 


'  "i  fi 


t 

ue 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  QUACK 


'  AND   DO   YOU   MEA 


T   POiSOSEl)  ?  '   SAIl)   SHE. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
A  QUACK 

AND 

THE  CASE  OF 
GEORGE  DEDLOW 


BY- 


S.  WEIR  MITCHELL,  M.  D., 

LL.  D.   HARVARD  AND  EDINBURGH 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
A.J.KELLER 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1900 


Copyright,  1899,  1900,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS. 


Stack' 
Annex 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    .    .        1 
THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW    .    .    .    113 


1711416 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

•'AND  DO  You  MEAN  TO  SAY  HE  WAS  N'T  POI 
SONED  ?  "  SAID  SHE Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"I   DID   N'T    UNDERSTAND   THIS,   OR  I   WOULD 

NOT  HAVE  COME" 23 

THEN  I  KNEW  IT  WAS  SERIOUS 39 

"SiT  DOWN,"  HE  SAID.    ''WHAT  A  FOOL  You 

ARE!" 53 

"ANY  OF  You  BEEN  SCALPED,  GENTLEMEN?"      .  69 
HE  WARNED  ME  THAT  .  .  .  HE  WOULD   SHOOT 

ME 83 

THE  BIG  BIBLE  LAY  OPEN  ON  THE  FLOOR  ...  89 
I  KNEW  I  WAS  THAT  BOY  .  .  97 


INTRODUCTION 

BOTH  of  the  tales  in  this  little  volume  ap 
peared  originally  in  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  " 
as  anonymous  contributions.  I  owe  to  the 
present  owners  of  that  journal  permission  to 
use  them.  "  The  Autobiography  of  a  Quack" 
has  been  recast  with  large  additions. 

"  The  Case  of  George  Dedlow "  was  not 
written  with  any  intention  that  it  should  ap 
pear  in  print.  I  lent  the  manuscript  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Furness  and  forgot  it.  This  gentle 
man  sent  it  to  the  Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale. 
He,  presuming,  I  fancy,  that  every  one  de 
sired  to  appear  in  the  u  Atlantic,"  offered  it 
to  that  journal.  To  my  surprise,  soon  after 
wards  I  received  a  proof  and  a  check.  The 
story  was  inserted  as  a  leading  article  without 
my  name.  It  was  at  once  accepted  by  many 
as  the  description  of  a  real  case.  Money  was 


x  INTRODUCTION 

collected  in  several  places  to  assist  the  un 
fortunate  man,  and  benevolent  persons  went 
to  the  "  Stump  Hospital,"  in  Philadelphia,  to 
see  the  sufferer  and  to  offer  him  aid.  The 
spiritual  incident  at  the  end  of  the  story  was 
received  with  joy  by  the  spiritualists  as  a 
valuable  proof  of  the  truth  of  their  beliefs. 

S.  WEIR  MITCHELL 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  QUACK 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  QUACK 

[T  this  present  moment  of  time 
I  am  what  the  doctors  call  an 
interesting  case,  and  am  to  be 
found  in  bed  No.  10,  Ward 
11,  Massachusetts  General  Hos 
pital.  I  am  told  that  I  have  what  is  called 
Addison's  disease,  and  that  it  is  this  pleasing 
malady  which  causes  me  to  be  covered  with 
large  blotches  of  a  dark  mulatto  tint.  How 
ever,  it  is  a  rather  grim  subject  to  joke  about, 
because,  if  I  believed  the  doctor  who  comes 
around  every  day,  and  thumps  me,  and  listens 
to  my  chest  with  as  much  pleasure  as  if  I 
were  music  all  through  —  I  say,  if  I  really 
believed  him,  I  should  suppose  I  was  going  to 
die.  The  fact  is,  I  don't  believe  him  at  all. 
Some  of  these  days  I  shall  take  a  turn  and 
get  about  again ;  but  meanwhile  it  is  rather 
i  l 


2       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

dull  for  a  stirring,  active  person  like  me  to 
have  to  lie  still  and  watch  myself  getting  big 
brown  and  yellow  spots  all  over  me,  like  a 
map  that  has  taken  to  growing. 

The  man  on  my  right  has  consumption 
—  smells  of  cod-liver  oil,  and  coughs  all 
night.  The  man  on  my  left  is  a  down-easter 
with  a  liver  which  has  struck  work ;  looks 
like  a  human  pumpkin ;  and  how  he  contrives 
to  whittle  jackstraws  all  day,  and  eat  as  he 
does,  I  can't  understand.  I  have  tried  reading 
and  tried  whittling,  but  they  don't  either  of 
them  satisfy  me,  so  that  yesterday  I  concluded 
to  ask  the  doctor  if  he  could  n't  suggest  some 
other  amusement. 

I  waited  until  he  had  gone  through  the 
ward,  and  then  seized  my  chance,  and  asked 
him  to  stop  a  moment. 

"Well,  my  man,"  said  he,  "what  do  you 
want?" 

I  thought  him  rather  disrespectful,  but  I 
replied,  "  Something  to  do,  doctor." 

He  thought  a  little,  and  then  said :  "I  '11 
tell  you  what  to  do.  I  think  if  you  were  to 
write  out  a  plain  account  of  your  life  it 
would  be  pretty  well  worth  reading.  If  half 
of  what  you  told  me  last  week  be  true,  you 
must  be  about  as  clever  a  seamp  as  there  is 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK       3 

to  be  met  with.  I  suppose  you  would  just 
as  lief  put  it  on  paper  as  talk  it." 

"  Pretty  nearly,"  said  I.  "  I  think  I  will 
try  it,  doctor." 

After  he  left  I  lay  awhile  thinking  over 
the  matter.  I  knew  well  that  I  was  what  the 
world  calls  a  scamp,  and  I  knew  also  that  I 
had  got  little  good  out  of  the  fact.  If  a  man 
is  what  people  call  virtuous,  and  fails  in  life, 
he  gets  credit  at  least  for  the  virtue;  but 
when  a  man  is  a  —  is  —  well,  one  of  liberal 
views,  and  breaks  down,  somehow  or  other 
people  don't  credit  him  with  even  the  intel 
ligence  he  has  put  into  the  business.  This 
I  call  hard.  If  I  did  not  recall  with  satisfac 
tion  the  energy  and  skill  with  which  I  did 
my  work,  I  should  be  nothing  but  disgusted 
at  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  my  failure. 
I  suppose  that  I  shall  at  least  find  occupa 
tion  in  reviewing  all  this,  and  I  think,  there 
fore,  for  my  own  satisfaction,  I  shall  try  to 
amuse  my  convalescence  by  writing  a  plain, 
straightforward  account  of  the  life  I  have 
led,  and  the  various  devices  by  which  I  have 
sought  to  get  my  share  of  the  money  of  my 
countrymen.  It  does  appear  to  me  that  1 
have  had  no  end  of  bad  luck. 

As  no  one  will  ever  see  these  pages,  I  find  it 


4       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

pleasant  to  recall  for  my  own  satisfaction  the 
fact  that  I  am  really  a  very  remarkable  man. 
I  am,  or  rather  I  was,  very  good-looking,  five 
feet  eleven,  with  a  lot  of  curly  red  hair,  and 
blue  eyes.  I  am  left-handed,  which  is  another 
unusual  thing.  My  hands  have  often  been  no 
ticed.  I  get  them  from  my  mother,  who  was 
a  Fishbourne,  and  a  lady.  As  for  my  father, 
he  was  rather  common.  He  was  a  little  man, 
red  and  round  like  an  apple,  but  very  strong, 
for  a  reason  I  shall  come  to  presently.  The 
family  must  have  had  a  pious  liking  for  Bible 
names,  because  he  was  called  Zebulon,  my 
sister  Peninnah,  and  I  Ezra,  which  is  not 
a  name  for  a  gentleman.  At  one  time  I 
thought  of  changing  it,  but  I  got  over  it 
by  signing  myself  "E.  Sandcraft." 

"Where  my  father  was  born  I  do  not  know, 
except  that  it  was  somewhere  in  New  Jersey, 
for  I  remember  that  he  was  once  angry  be 
cause  a  man  called  him  a  Jersey  Spaniard. 
I  am  not  much  concerned  to  write  about  my 
people,  because  I  soon  got  above  their  level ; 
and  as  to  my  mother,  she  died  when  I  was 
an  infant.  I  get  my  manners,  which  are 
rather  remarkable,  from  her. 

My  aunt,  Rachel  Sandcraft,  who  kept 
house  for  us,  was  a  queer  character.  She 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK       5 

had  a  snug  little  property,  about  seven  thou 
sand  dollars.  An  old  aunt  left  her  the  money 
because  she  was  stone-deaf.  As  this  defect 
came  upon  her  after  she  grew  up,  she  still 
kept  her  voice.  This  woman  was  the  cause 
of  some  of  my  ill  luck  in  life,  and  I  hope  she 
is  uncomfortable,  wherever  she  is.  I  think 
with  satisfaction  that  I  helped  to  make  her 
life  uneasy  when  I  was  young,  and  worse 
later  on.  She  gave  away  to  the  idle  poor 
some  of  her  small  income,  and  hid  the  rest, 
like  a  magpie,  in  her  Bible  or  rolled  in  her 
stockings,  or  in  even  queerer  places.  The 
worst  of  her  was  that  she  could  tell  what 
people  said  by  looking  at  their  lips ;  this  I 
hated.  But  as  I  grew  and  became  intelligent, 
her  ways  of  hiding  her  money  proved  useful, 
to  me  at  least.  As  to  Peninnah,  she  was 
nothing  special  until  she  suddenly  bloomed 
out  into  a  rather  stout,  pretty  girl,  took  to 
ribbons,  and  liked  what  she  called  "  keeping 
company."  She  ran  errands  for  every  one, 
waited  on  my  aunt,  and  thought  I  was  a 
wonderful  person  —  as  indeed  I  was.  I  never 
could  understand  her  fondness  for  helping 
everybody.  A  fellow  has  got  himself  to 
think  about,  and  that  is  quite  enough.  I 
was  told  pretty  often  that  I  was  the  most 


6       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

selfish  boy  alive.  But,  then,  I  ain  an  un 
usual  person,  and  there  are  several  names 
for  things. 

My  father  kept  a  small  shop  for  the  sale 
of  legal  stationery  and  the  like,  on  Fifth 
street  north  of  Chestnut.  But  his  chief  in 
terest  in  life  lay  in  the  bell-ringing  of 
Christ  Church.  He  was  leader,  or  No.  1,  and 
the  whole  business  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
kind  of  guild  which  is  nearly  as  old  as  the 
church.  I  used  to  hear  more  of  it  than  I 
liked,  because  my  father  talked  of  nothing 
else.  But  I  do  not  mean  to  bore  myself 
writing  of  bells.  I  heard  too  much  about 
"back  shake,"  " raising  in  peal,"  "scales," 
and  "  touches,"  and  the  Lord  knows  what. 

My  earliest  remembrance  is  of  sitting  on 
my  father's  shoulder  when  he  led  off  the 
ringers.  He  was  very  strong,  as  I  said,  by 
reason  of  this  exercise.  With  one  foot 
caught  in  a  loop  of  leather  nailed  to  the 
floor,  he  would  begin  to  pull  No.  1,  and  by 
and  by  the  whole  peal  would  be  swinging, 
and  he  going  up  and  down,  to  my  joy ;  I  used 
to  feel  as  if  it  was  I  that  was  making  the 
great  noise  that  rang  out  all  over  the  town. 
My  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  old  church 
and  its  lumber-rooms,  where  were  stored  the 


THE  AUTOBIOGKAPHY  OF  A  QUACK       7 

dusty  arms  of  William  and  Mary  and  George 
II.,  proved  of  use  in  my  later  days. 

My  father  had  a  strong  belief  in  my  tal 
ents,  and  I  do  not  think  he  was  mistaken. 
As  he  was  quite  uneducated,  he  determined 
that  I  should  not  be.  He  had  saved  enough 
to  send  me  to  Princeton  College,  and  when  I 
was  about  fifteen  I  was  set  free  from  the 
public  schools.  I  never  liked  them.  The  last 
I  was  at  was  the  high  school.  As  I  had  to 
come  down-town  to  get  home,  we  used  to 
meet  on  Arch  street  the  boys  from  the 
grammar-school  of  the  university,  and  there 
were  fights  every  week.  In  winter  these 
were  most  frequent,  because  of  the  snow 
balling.  A  fellow  had  to  take  his  share  or  be 
marked  as  a  deserter.  I  never  saw  any  per 
sonal  good  to  be  had  out  of  a  fight,  but  it 
was  better  to  fight  than  to  be  cobbed.  That 
means  that  two  fellows  hold  you,  and  the 
other  fellows  kick  you  with  their  bent  knees. 
It  hurts. 

I  find  just  here  that  I  am  describing  a 
thing  as  if  I  were  writing  for  some  other 
people  to  see.  I  may  as  well  go  on  that  way. 
After  all,  a  man  never  can  quite  stand  off 
and  look  at  himself  as  if  he  was  the  only 
person  concerned.  He  must  have  an  audi- 


8       THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

ence,  or  make  believe  to  have  one,  even  if  it 
is  only  himself.  Nor,  on  the  whole,  should  I 
be  unwilling,  if  it  were  safe,  to  let  people 
see  how  great  ability  may  be  defeated  by  the 
crankiness  of  fortune. 

I  may  add  here  that  a  stone  inside  of  a 
snowball  discourages  the  fellow  it  hits.  But 
neither  our  fellows  nor  the  grammar-school 
used  stones  in  snowballs.  I  rather  liked  it. 
If  we  had  a  row  in  the  springtime  we  all 
threw  stones,  and  here  was  one  of  those  bits 
of  stupid  custom  'no  man  can  understand  ; 
because  really  a  stone  outside  of  a  snowball 
is  much  more  serious  than  if  it  is  merci 
fully  padded  with  snow.  I  felt  it  to  be  a 
rise  in  life  when  I  got  out  of  the  society  of  the 
common  boys  who  attended  the  high  school. 

When  I  was  there  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Dallas  Bache  was  the  head  master.  He  had  a 
way  of  letting  the  boys  attend  to  what  he  called 
the  character  of  the  school.  Once  I  had  to 
lie  to  him  about  taking  another  boy's  ball. 
He  told  my  class  that  I  had  denied  the  charge, 
and  that  he  always  took  it  for  granted  that  a 
boy  spoke  the  truth.  He  knew  well  enough 
what  would  happen.  It  did.  After  that  I 
was  careful. 

Princeton  was  then  a  little  college,  not  ex- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK      9 

pensive,  which  was  very  well,  as  my  father 
had  some  difficulty  to  provide  even  the  mod 
erate  amount  needed. 

I  soon  found  that  if  I  was  to  associate  with 
the  upper  set  of  young  men  I  needed  money. 
For  some  time  I  waited  in  vain.  But  in  my 
second  year  I  discovered  a  small  gold-mine,  on 
which  I  drew  with  a  moderation  which  shows 
even  thus  early  the  strength  of  my  character. 

I  used  to  go  home  once  a  month  for  a  Sun 
day  visit,  and  on  these  occasions  I  was  often 
able  to  remove  from  my  aunt's  big  Bible  a 
five-  or  ten-dollar  note,  which  otherwise  would 
have  been  long  useless. 

Now  and  then  I  utilized  my  opportunities 
at  Princeton.  I  very  much  desired  certain 
things  like  well-made  clothes,  and  for  these 
I  had  to  run  in  debt  to  a  tailor.  When  he 
wanted  pay,  and  threatened  to  send  the  bill 
to  my  father,  I  borrowed  from  two  or  three 
young  Southerners;  but  at  last,  when  they 
became  hard  up,  my  aunt's  uncounted  hoard 
proved  a  last  resource,  or  some  rare  chance 
in  a  neighboring  room  helped  me  out.  I 
never  did  look  on  this  method  as  of  perma 
nent  usefulness,  and  it  was  only  the  tem 
porary  folly  of  youth. 

Whatever  else  the  pirate  necessity  appro- 


10    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF   A  QUACK 

priated,  I  took  no  large  amount  of  education, 
although  I  was  fond  of  reading,  and  espe 
cially  of  novels,  which  are,  I  think,  very  in 
structive  to  the  young,  especially  the  novels 
of  Smollett  and  Fielding. 

There  is,  however,  little  need  to  dwell  on 
this  part  of  my  life.  College  students  in 
those  days  were  only  boys,  and  boys  are  very 
strange  animals.  They  have  instincts.  They 
somehow  get  to  know  if  a  fellow  does  not 
relate  facts  as  they  took  place.  I  like  to  put 
it  that  way,  because,  after  all,  the  mode  of 
putting  things  is  only  one  of  the  forms  of 
self-defense,  and  is  less  silly  than  the  ordi 
nary  wriggling  methods  which  boys  employ, 
and  which  are  generally  useless.  I  was  rather 
given  to  telling  large  stories  just  for  the  fun 
of  it,  and,  I  think,  told  them  well.  But  some 
how  I  got  the  reputation  of  not  being  strictly 
definite,  and  when  it  was  meant  to  indicate 
this  belief  they  had  an  ill-mannered  way  of 
informing  you.  This  consisted  in  two  or 
three  fellows  standing  up  and  shuffling  noisily 
with  their  feet  on  the  floor.  When  first  I 
heard  this  I  asked  innocently  what  it  meant, 
and  was  told  it  was  the  noise  of  the  bearers' 
feet  coming  to  take  away  Ananias.  This  was 
considered  a  fine  joke. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    11 

During  my  junior  year  I  became  unpopu 
lar,  and  as  I  was  very  cautious,  I  cannot  see 
why.  At  last,  being  hard  up,  I  got  to  be 
foolishly  reckless.  But  why  dwell  on  the 
failures  of  immaturity  ? 

The  causes  which  led  to  my  leaving  Nas 
sau  Hall  were  not,  after  all,  the  mischievous 
outbreaks  in  which  college  lads  indulge.  In 
deed,  I  have  never  been  guilty  of  any  of 
those  pieces  of  wanton  wickedness  which 
injure  the  feelings  of  others  while  they  lead 
to  no  useful  result.  When  I  left  to  return 
home,  I  set  myself  seriously  to  reflect  upon 
the  necessity  of  greater  care  in  following  out 
my  inclinations,  and  from  that  time  forward 
I  have  steadily  avoided,  whenever  it  was  pos 
sible,  the  vulgar  vice  of  directly  possessing 
myself  of  objects  to  which  I  could  show  no 
legal  title.  My  father  was  indignant  at  the 
results  of  my  college  career ;  and,  according 
to  my  aunt,  his  shame  and  sorrow  had  some 
effect  in  shortening  his  life.  My  sister  be 
lieved  my  account  of  the  matter.  It  ended 
in  my  being  used  for  a  year  as  an  assistant 
in  the  shop,  and  in  being  taught  to  ring  bells 
—  a  fine  exercise,  but  not  proper  work  for  a 
man  of  refinement.  My  father 'died  while 
training  his  bell-ringers  in  the  Oxford  triple 


12    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A  QUACK 

bob  — broke  a  blood-vessel  somewhere.  How 
I  could  have  caused  that  I  do  not  see. 

I  was  now  about  nineteen  years  old,  and, 
as  I  remember,  a  middle-sized,  well-built 
young  fellow,  with  large  eyes,  a  slight  mus 
tache,  and,  I  have  been  told,  with  very  good 
manners  and  a  somewhat  humorous  turn. 
Besides  these  advantages,  my  guardian  held 
in  trust  for  me  about  two  thousand  dollars. 
After  some  consultation  between  us,  it  was 
resolved  that  I  should  study  medicine.  This 
conclusion  was  reached  nine  years  before  the 
Rebellion  broke  out,  and  after  we  had  set 
tled,  for  the  sake  of  economy,  in  Woodbury, 
New  Jersey.  From  this  time  I  saw  very  little 
of  my  deaf  aunt  or  of  Peninnah.  I  was  reso 
lute  to  rise  in  the  world,  and  not  to  be  weighted 
by  relatives  who  were  without  my  tastes  and 
my  manners. 

I  set  out  for  Philadelphia,  with  many  good 
counsels  from  my  aunt  and  guardian.  I  look 
back  upon  this  period  as  a  turning-point  of 
my  life.  I  had  seen  enough  of  the  world 
already  to  know  that  if  you  can  succeed 
without  exciting  suspicion,  it  is  by  far  the 
pleasantest  way;  and  I  really  believe  that 
if  I  had  not  been  endowed  with  so  fatal  a 
liking  for  all  the  good  things  of  life  I  might 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    13 

have  lived  along  as  reputably  as  most  men. 
This,  however,  is,  and  always  has  been,  my 
difficulty,  and  I  suppose  that  I  am  not  re 
sponsible  for  the  incidents  to  which  it  gave 
rise.  Most  men  have  some  ties  in  life,  but  I 
have  said  I  had  none  which  held  me.  Penin- 
nah  cried  a  good  deal  when  we  parted,  and 
this,  I  think,  as  I  was  still  young,  had  a  very 
good  effect  in  strengthening  my  resolution  to 
do  nothing  which  could  get  me  into  trouble. 
The  janitor  of  the  college  to  which  I  went 
directed  me  to  a  boarding-house,  where  I  en 
gaged  a  small  third-story  room,  which  I  after 
wards  shared  with  Mr.  Chaucer  of  Georgia. 
He  pronounced  it,  as  I  remember,  "  Jawjah." 
In  this  very  remarkable  abode  I  spent  the 
next  two  winters,  and  finally  graduated, 
along  with  two  hundred  more,  at  the  close 
of  my  two  years  of  study.  I  should  previ 
ously  have  been  one  year  in  a  physician's 
office  as  a  student,  but  this  regulation  was 
very  easily  evaded.  As  to  my  studies,  the 
less  said  the  better.  I  attended  the  quizzes, 
as  they  call  them,  pretty  closely,  and,  being 
of  a  quick  and  retentive  memory,  was  thus 
enabled  to  dispense  with  some  of  the  six  or 
seven  lectures  a  day  which  duller  men  found 
it  necessary  to  follow. 


14    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

Dissecting  struck  me  as  a  rather  nasty 
business  for  a  gentleman,  and  on  this  ac 
count  I  did  just  as  little  as  was  absolutely 
essential.  In  fact,  if  a  man  took  his  tickets 
and  paid  the  dissection  fees,  nobody  troubled 
himself  as  to  whether  or  not  he  did  any  more 
than  this.  A  like  evil  existed  at  the  gradu 
ation  :  whether  you  squeezed  through  or 
passed  with  credit  was  a  thing  which  was 
not  made  public,  so  that  I  had  absolutely 
nothing  to  stimulate  my  ambition.  I  am  told 
that  it  is  all  very  different  to-day. 

The  astonishment  with  which  I  learned  of 
my  success  was  shared  by  the  numerous 
Southern  gentlemen  who  darkened  the  floors 
and  perfumed  with  tobacco  the  rooms  of  our 
boarding-house.  In  my  companions,  during 
the  time  of  my  studies  so  called,  as  in  other 
matters  of  life,  I  was  somewhat  unfortunate. 
All  of  them  were  Southern  gentlemen,  with 
more  money  than  I  had.  Many  of  them  car 
ried  great  sticks,  usually  sword-canes,  and 
some  bowie-knives  or  pistols ;  also,  they  de 
lighted  in  swallow-tailed  coats,  long  hair, 
broad-brimmed  felt  hats,  and  very  tight 
boots.  I  often  think  of  these,  gentlemen 
with  affectionate  interest,  and  wonder  how 
many  are  lying  under  the  wheat-fields  of 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    15 

Virginia.  One  could  see  them  any  day  saun 
tering  along  with  their  arms  over  their  com 
panions'  shoulders,  splendidly  indifferent  to 
the  ways  of  the  people  about  them.  They 
hated  the  "  Nawth"  and  cursed  the  Yankees, 
and  honestly  believed  that  the  leanest  of 
them  was  a  match  for  any  half  a  dozen  of 
the  bulkiest  of  Northerners.  I  must  also  do 
them  the  justice  to  say  that  they  were  quite 
as  ready  to  fight  as  to  brag,  which,  by  the 
way,  is  no  meager  statement.  With  these 
gentry  —  for  whom  I  retain  a  respect  which 
filled  me  with  regret  at  the  recent  course  of 
events  —  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  large 
leisure.  The  more  studious  of  both  sections 
called  us  a  hard  crowd.  What  we  did,  or 
how  we  did  it,  little  concerns  me  here,  except 
that,  owing  to  my  esteem  for  chivalric  blood 
and  breeding,  I  was  led  into  many  practices 
and  excesses  which  cost  my  guardian  and 
myself  a  good  deal  of  money.  At  the  close 
of  my  career  as  a  student  I  found  myself  aged 
twenty-one  years,  and  the  owner  of  some 
seven  hundred  dollars  —  the  rest  of  my  small 
estate  having  disappeared  variously  within 
the  last  two  years.  After  my  friends  had 
gone  to  their  homes  in  the  South  I  began  to 
look  about  me  for  an  office,  and  finally  settled 


16    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

upon  very  good  rooms  in  one  of  the  down 
town  localities  of  the  Quaker  City.  I  am  not 
specific  as  to  the  number  and  street,  for 
reasons  which  may  hereafter  appear.  I  liked 
the  situation  on  various  accounts.  It  had 
been  occupied  by  a  doctor;  the  terms  were 
reasonable ;  and  it  lay  on  the  skirts  of  a 
good  neighborhood,  while  below  it  lived  a 
motley  population,  among  which  I  expected 
to  get  my  first  patients  and  such  fees  as  were 
to  be  had.  Into  this  new  home  I  moved  my 
medical  text-books,  a  few  bones,  and  myself. 
Also,  I  displayed  in  the  window  a  fresh  sign, 
upon  which  was  distinctly  to  be  read : 

DE.    E.    SANDCRAPT. 

Office  hours,  8  to  9  A.  M.?  7  to  9  p.  M. 

I  felt  now  that  I  had  done  my  fair  share 
toward  attaining  a  virtuous  subsistence,  and 
so  I  waited  tranquilly,  and  without  undue 
enthusiasm,  to  see  the  rest  of  the  world  do 
its  part  in  the  matter.  Meanwhile  I  read  up 
on  all  sorts  of  imaginable  cases,  stayed  at 
home  all  through  my  office  hours,  and  at  in 
tervals  explored  the  strange  section  of  the 
town  which  lay  to  the  south  of  my  office.  I 
do  not  suppose  there  is  anything  like  it  else- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    17 

where.  It  was  then  filled  with  grog-shops, 
brothels,  slop-shops,  and  low  lodging-houses. 
You  could  dine  for  a  penny  on  soup  made 
from  the  refuse  meats  of  the  rich,  gathered 
at  back  gates  by  a  horde  of  half-naked  chil 
dren,  who  all  told  varieties  of  one  woeful 
tale.  Here,  too,  you  could  be  drunk  for  five 
cents,  and  be  lodged  for  three,  with  men, 
women,  and  children  of  all  colors  lying  about 
you.  It  was  this  hideous  mixture  of  black 
and  white  and  yellow  wretchedness  which 
made  the  place  so  peculiar.  The  blacks  pre 
dominated,  and  had  mostly  that  swollen, 
reddish,  dark  skin,  the  sign  in  this  race  of 
habitual  drunkenness.  Of  course  only  the 
lowest  whites  were  here  —  rag-pickers,  pawn 
brokers,  old-clothes  men,  thieves,  and  the 
like.  All  of  this,  as  it  came  before  me,  I 
viewed  with  mingled  disgust  and  philosophy. 
I  hated  filth,  but  I  understood  that  society 
has  to  stand  on  somebody,  and  I  was  only 
glad  that  I  was  not  one  of  the  undermost 
and  worst-squeezed  bricks. 

I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  waited  a  month 
without  having  been  called  upon  by  a  single 
patient.  At  last  a  policeman  on  our  beat 
brought  me  a  fancy  man  with  a  dog-bite. 
This  patient  recommended  me  to  his  brother, 


18    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

the  keeper  of  a  small  pawnbroking-shop,  and 
by  very  slow  degrees  I  began  to  get  stray 
patients  who  were  too  poor  to  indulge  in  up 
town  doctors.  I  found  the  police  very  useful 
acquaintances;  and,  by  a  drink  or  a  cigar 
now  and  then,  I  got  most  of  the  cases  of  cut 
heads  and  the  like  at  the  next  station-house. 
These,  however,  were  the  aristocrats  of  my 
practice ;  the  bulk  of  my  patients  were  soap- 
fat  men,  rag-pickers,  oystermen,  hose-house 
bummers,  and  worse,  with  other  and  name 
less  trades,  men  and  women,  white,  black, 
or  mulatto.  How  they  got  the  levies,  fips, 
and  quarters  with  which  I  was  reluctantly 
paid,  I  do  not  know;  that,  indeed,  was  none 
of  my  business.  They  expected  to  pay, 
and  they  came  to  me  in  preference  to  the 
dispensary  doctor,  two  or  three  squares  away, 
who  seemed  to  me  to  spend  most  of  his  days 
in  the  lanes  and  alleys  about  us.  Of  course 
he  received  no  pay  except  experience,  since 
the  dispensaries  in  the  Quaker  City,  as  a 
rule,  do  not  give  salaries  to  their  doctors; 
and  the  vilest  of  the  poor  prefer  a  "pay 
doctor "  to  one  of  these  disinterested  gentle 
men,  who  cannot  be  expected  to  give  their 
best  brains  for  nothing,  when  at  everybody's 
beck  and  call.  I  am  told,  indeed  I  know, 


that  most  young  doctors  do  a  large  amount 
of  poor  practice,  as  it  is  called;  but,  for  my 
own  part,  I  think  it  better  for  both  parties 
when  the  doctor  insists  upon  some  compen 
sation  being  made  to  him.  This  has  been 
usually  my  own  custom,  and  I  have  not  found 
reason  to  regret  it. 

Notwithstanding  my  strict  attention  to  my 
own  interests,  I  have  been  rather  sorely  dealt 
with  by  fate  upon  several  occasions,  where, 
so  far  as  I  could  see,  I  was  vigilantly  doing 
everything  in  my  power  to  keep  myself  out 
of  trouble  or  danger.  I  may  as  well  relate 
one  of  them,  merely  to  illustrate  of  how  little 
value  a  man's  intellect  may  be  when  fate  and 
the  prejudices  of  the  mass  of  men  are  against 
him. 

One  evening,  late,  I  myself  answered  a  ring 
at  the  bell,  and  found  a  small  black  boy  on 
the  steps,  a  shoeless,  hatless  little  wretch, 
curled  darkness  for  hair,  and  teeth  like  new 
tombstones.  It  was  pretty  cold,  and  he  was 
relieving  his  feet  by  standing  first  on  one 
and  then  on  the  other.  He  did  not  wait  for 
me  to  speak. 

"  Hi,  sah,  Missey  Barker  she  say  to  come 
quick  away,  sah,  to  Numbah  709  Bedford 
street." 


20    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

The  locality  did  not  look  like  pay,  but 
it  is  hard  to  say  in  this  quarter,  because 
sometimes  you  found  a  well-to-do  "  brandy- 
snifter  "  (local  for  gin-shop)  or  a  hard-working 
"leather- jeweler"  (ditto  for  shoemaker),  with 
next  door,  in  a  house  better  or  worse,  dozens 
of  human  rats  for  whom  every  police  trap  in 
the  city  was  constantly  set. 

With  a  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  whether  I 
should  find  a  good  patient  or  some  dirty  nig 
ger,  I  sought  the  place  to  which  I  had  been 
directed.  I  did  not  like  its  looks;  but  I 
blundered  up  an  alley  and  into  a  back  room, 
where  I  fell  over  somebody,  and  was  cursed 
and  told  to  lie  down  and  keep  easy,  or  some 
body,  meaning  the  man  stumbled  over,  would 
make  me.  At  last  I  lit  on  a  staircase  which 
led  into  the  alley,  and,  after  much  useless  in 
quiry,  got  as  high  as  the  garret.  People  here 
about  did  not  know  one  another,  or  did  not 
want  to  know,  so  that  it  was  of  little  avail 
to  ask  questions.  At  length  I  saw  a  light 
through  the  cracks  in  the  attic  door,  and 
walked  in.  To  my  amazement,  the  first  per 
son  I  saw  was  a  woman  of  about  thirty-five, 
in  pearl-gray  Quaker  dress  — one  of  your 
quiet,  good-looking  people.  She  was  seated 
on  a  stool  beside  a  straw  mattress  upon 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    21 

which  lay  a  black  woman.  There  were  three 
others  crowded  close  around  a  small  stove, 
which  was  red-hot  —  an  unusual  spectacle  in 
this  street.  Altogether  a  most  nasty  den. 

As  I  came  in,  the  little  Quaker  woman  got 
up  and  said :  "  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending 
for  thee  to  look  at  this  poor  woman.  I  am 
afraid  she  has  the  smallpox.  Will  thee  be  so 
kind  as  to  look  at  her  ?  "  And  with  this  she 
held  down  the  candle  toward  the  bed. 

•'  Good  gracious ! "  I  said  hastily,  seeing 
how  the  creature  was  speckled,  "I  did  n't 
understand  this,  or  I  would  not  have  come. 
I  have  important  cases  which  I  cannot  sub 
ject  to  the  risk  of  contagion.  Best  let  her 
alone,  miss,"  I  added,  "or  send  her  to  the 
smallpox  hospital." 

Upon  my  word,  I  was  astonished  at  the 
little  wroman's  indignation.  She  said  just 
those  things  which  make  you  feel  as  if  some 
body  had  been  calling  you  names  or  kicking 
you  —  Was  I  really  a  doctor  ?  and  so  on.  It 
did  not  gain  by  being  put  in  the  ungram- 
matical  tongue  of  Quakers.  However,  I 
never  did  fancy  smallpox,  and  what  could  a 
fellow  get  by  doctoring  wretches  like  these  ! 
So  I  held  my  tongue  and  went  away.  About 
a  week  afterwards  I  met  Evans,  the  dispen- 


22    THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

sary  man,  a  very  common  fellow,  who  was 
said  to  be  frank. 

"  Helloa !  "  says  he.  "  Doctor,  you  made  a 
nice  mistake  about  that  darky  at  No.  709 
Bedford  street  the  other  night.  She  had 
nothing  but  measles,  after  all." 

"  Of  course  I  knew,"  said  I,  laughing ;  "  but 
you  don't  think  I  was  going  in  for  dispensary 
trash,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Evans. 

I  learned  afterwards  that  this  Miss  Barker 
had  taken  an  absurd  fancy  to  the  man  be 
cause  he  had  doctored  the  darky  and  would 
not  let  the  Quakeress  pay  him.  The  end 
was,  when  I  wanted  to  get  a  vacancy  in  the 
Southwark  Dispensary,  where  they  do  pay 
the  doctors,  Miss  Barker  was  malignant 
enough  to  take  advantage  of  my  oversight 
by  telling  the  whole  story  to  the  board ;  so 
that  Evans  got  in,  and  I  was  beaten. 

You  may  be  pretty  sure  that  I  found  rather 
slow  the  kind  of  practice  I  have  described, 
and  began  to  look  about  for  chances  of  bet 
tering  myself.  In  this  sort  of  locality  rather 
risky  cases  turned  up  now  and  then ;  and  as 
soon  as  I  got  to  be  known  as  a  reliable  man, 
I  began  to  get  the  peculiar  sort  of  practice  I 
wanted.  Notwithstanding  all  my  efforts,  I 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    25 

found  myself,  at  the  close  of  three  years,  with 
all  my  means  spent,  and  just  able  to  live 
meagerly  from  hand  to  mouth,  which  by  no 
means  suited  a  man  of  my  refined  tastes. 

Once  or  twice  I  paid  a  visit  to  my  aunt, 
and  was  able  to  secure  moderate  aid  by  over 
hauling  her  concealed  hoardings.  But  as  to 
these  changes  of  property  I  was  careful,  and 
did  not  venture  to  secure  the  large  amount  I 
needed.  As  to  the  Bible,  it  was  at  this  time 
hidden,  and  I  judged  it,  therefore,  to  be  her 
chief  place  of  deposit.  Banks  she  utterly 
distrusted. 

Six  months  went  by,  and  I  was  worse  off 
than  ever  —  two  months  in  arrears  of  rent, 
and  numerous  other  debts  to  cigar-shops  and 
liquor-dealers.  Now  and  then  some  good  job, 
such  as  a  burglar  with  a  cut  head,  helped  me 
for  a  while;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  was  like 
Slider  Downeyhylle  in  Neal's  "  Charcoal 
Sketches,"  and  kept  going  "  downer  and 
downer  "  the  more  I  tried  not  to.  Something 
had  to  be  done. 

It  occurred  to  me,  about  this  time,  that  if 
I  moved  into  a  more  genteel  locality  I  might 
get  a  better  class  of  patients,  and  yet  keep 
the  best  of  those  I  now  had.  To  do  this  it 
was  necessary  to  pay  my  rent,  and  the  more 


26    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

so  because  I  was  in  a  fair  way  to  have  no 
house  at  all  over  my  head.  But  here  fortune 
interposed.  I  was  caught  in  a  heavy  rain 
storm  on  Seventh  street,  and  ran  to  catch  an 
omnibus.  As  I  pulled  open  the  door  I  saw 
behind  me  the  Quaker  woman,  Miss  Barker. 
I  laughed  and  jumped  in.  She  had  to  run  a 
little  before  the  'bus  again  stopped.  She  got 
pretty  wet.  An  old  man  in  the  corner,  who 
seemed  in  the  way  of  taking  charge  of  other 
people's  manners,  said  to  me  :  "  Young  man 
you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  get  in  before  the 
lady,  and  in  this  pour,  too  !  " 

I  said  calmly,  "  But  you  got  in  before  her." 
He  made  no  reply  to  this  obvious  fact,  as 
he  might  have  been  in  the  'bus  a  half -hour. 
A  large,  well-dressed  man  near  by  said,  with  a 
laugh,  "  Rather  neat,  that,"  and,  turning,  tried 
to  pull  up  a  window-sash.  In  the  effort 
something  happened,  and  he  broke  the  glass, 
cutting  his  hand  in  half  a  dozen  places. 
While  he  was  using  several  quite  profane 
phrases,  I  caught  his  hand  and  said,  u  I  am  a 
surgeon,"  and  tied  my  handkerchief  around 
the  bleeding  palm. 

The  guardian  of  manners  said,  "  I  hope  you 
are  not  much  hurt,  but  there  was  no  reason 
why  you  should  swear." 


THE  AUTOBIOGKAPHY  OF  A   QUACK    27 

On  this  my  patient  said,  "Go  to  ," 

which  silenced  the  monitor. 

I  explained  to  the  wounded  man  that  the 
cuts  should  be  looked  after  at  once.  The 
matter  was  arranged  by  our  leaving  the  'bus, 
and,  as  the  rain  had  let  up,  walking  to  his 
house.  This  was  a  large  and  quite  luxurious 
dwelling  on  Fourth  street.  There  I  cared  for 
his  wounds,  which,  as  I  had  informed  him, 
required  immediate  attenion.  It  was  at  this 
time  summer,  and  his  wife  and  niece,  the 
only  other  members  of  his  family,  were  ab 
sent.  On  my  second  visit  I  made  believe 
to  remove  some  splinters  of  glass  which  I 
brought  with  me.  He  said  they  showed  how 
shamefully  thin  was  that  omnibus  window- 
pane.  To  my  surprise,  my  patient,  at  the 
end  of  the  month, —  for  one  wound  was  long 
in  healing, —  presented  me  with  one  hundred 
dollars.  This  paid  my  small  rental,  and  as 
Mr.  Poynter  allowed  me  to  refer  to  him,  I 
was  able  to  get  a  better  office  and  bedroom  on 
Spruce  street.  I  saw  no  more  of  my  patient 
until  winter,  although  I  learned  that  he  was 
a  stock-broker,  not  in  the  very  best  repute, 
but  of  a  well-Jmown  family. 

Meanwhile  my  move  had  been  of  small  use. 
I  was  wise  enough,  however,  to  keep  up  my 


28    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

connection  with  my  former  clients,  and  con 
trived  to  live.  It  was  no  more  than  that. 
One  day  in  December  I  was  overjoyed  to  see 
Mr.  Poynter  enter.  He  was  a  fat  man,  very 
pale,  and  never,  to  my  remembrance,  without  a 
permanent  smile.  He  had  very  civil  ways,  and 
now  at  once  I  saw  that  he  wanted  something. 

I  hated  the  way  that  man  saw  through  me. 
He  went  on  without  hesitation,  taking  me 
for  granted.  He  began  by  saying  he  had 
confidence  in  my  judgment,  and  when  a  man 
says  that  you  had  better  look  out.  He  said 
he  had  a  niece  who  lived  with  him,  a  brother's 
child ;  that  she  was  out  of  health  and  ought 
not  to  marry,  which  was  what  she  meant  to 
do.  She  was  scared  about  her  health,  be 
cause  she  had  a  cough,  and  had  lost  a  brother 
of  consumption.  I  soon  came  to  understand 
that,  for  reasons  unknown  to  me,  my  friend 
did  not  -wish  his  niece  to  marry.  His  wife, 
he  also  informed  me,  was  troubled  as  to  the 
niece's  health.  Now,  he  said,  he  wished  to 
consult  me  as  to  what  he  should  do.  I  sus 
pected  at  once  that  he  had  not  told  me  all. 

I  have  often  wondered  at  the  skill  with 
which  I  managed  this  rather  delicate  mat 
ter.  I  knew  I  was  not  well  enough  known 
to  be  of  direct  use,  and  was  also  too  young 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    29 

to  have  much  weight.  I  advised  him  to  get 
Professor  C. 

Then  my  friend  shook  his  head.  He  said 
in  reply,  "  But  suppose,  doctor,  he  says  there 
is  nothing  wrong  with  the  girl  ? " 

Then  I  began  to  understand  him. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  you  get  a  confidential  writ 
ten  opinion  from  him.  You  can  make  it  what 
you  please  when  you  tell  her." 

He  said  no.  It  would  be  best  for  me  to 
ask  the  professor  to  see  Miss  Poynter ;  might 
mention  my  youth,  and  so  on,  as  a  reason.  I 
was  to  get  his  opinion  in  writing. 

"Well?  "said  I. 

"  After  that  I  want  you  to  write  me  a  joint 
opinion  to  meet  the  case  —  all  the  needs  of 
the  case,  you  see." 

I  saw,  but  hesitated  as  to  how  much  would 
make  it  worth  while  to  pull  his  hot  chestnuts 
out  of  the  fire  —  one  never  knows  how  hot 
the  chestnuts  are. 

Then  he  said,  "  Ever  take  a  chance  in 
stocks  ? " 

I  said,  "  No." 

He  said  that  he  would  lend  me  a  little 
money  and  see  what  he  could  do  with  it.  And 
here  was  his  receipt  from  me  for  one  thou 
sand  dollars,  and  here,  too,  was  my  order  to 


30    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

buy  shares  of  P.  T.  Y.  Would  I  please  to 
sign  it  ?  I  did. 

I  was  to  call  in  two  days  at  his  house,  and 
meantime  I  could  think  it  over.  It  seemed 
to  me  a  pretty  weak  plan.  Suppose  the 
young  woman  —  well,  supposing  is  awfully 
destructive  of  enterprise;  and  as  for  me,  I 
had  only  to  misunderstand  the  professor's 
opinion.  I  went  to  the  house,  and  talked  to 
Mr.  Poynter  about  his  gout.  Then  Mrs.  Poyn- 
ter  came  in,  and  began  to  lament  her  niece's 
declining  health.  After  that  I  saw  Miss 
Poynter.  There  is  a  kind  of  innocent-look 
ing  woman  who  knowrs  no  more  of  the  world 
than  a  young  chicken,  and  is  choke-full  of 
emotions.  I  saw  it  would  be  easy  to  frighten 
her*  There  are  some  instruments  anybody 
can  get  any  tune  they  like  out  of.  I  was 
very  grave,  and  advised  her  to  see  the  pro 
fessor.  And  would  I  write  to  Lok  him,  said 
Mr.  Poynter.  I  said  I  would.  „ 

As  I  went  out  Mr.  Poynter  remarked: 
"  You  will  clear  some  four  hundred  easy. 
Write  to  the  professor.  Bring  my  receipt 
to  the  office  next  week,  and  we  will  settle." 

We  settled.  I  tore  up  his  receipt  and  gave 
him  one  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  and  re 
ceived  in  notes  five  hundred  dollars. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    31 

In  a  day  or  so  I  had  a  note  from  the  pro 
fessor  stating  that  Miss  Poynter  was  in  no 
peril ;  that  she  was,  as  he  thought,  worried, 
and  had  only  a  mild  bronchial  trouble.  He 
advised  me  to  do  so-and-so,  and  had  ventured 
to  reassure  my  young  patient.  Now,  this 
was  a  little  more  than  I  wanted.  However, 
I  wrote  Mr.  Poynter  that  the  prof  essor  thought 
she  had  bronchitis,  that  in  her  case  tubercle 
would  be  very  apt  to  follow,  and  that  at  pres 
ent,  and  until  she  was  safe,  we  considered 
marriage  undesirable. 

Mr.  Poynter  said  it  might  have  been  put 
stronger,  but  he  would  make  it  do.  He  made 
it.  The  first  effect  was  an  attack  of  hyster 
ics.  The  final  result  was  that  she  eloped  with 
her  lover,  because  if  she  was  to  die,  as  she 
wrote  her  aunt,  she  wished  to  die  in  her  hus 
band's  arms.  Human  nature  plus  hysteria 
will  defy  all  knowledge  of  character.  This 
was  what  our  old  professor  of  practice  used 
to  say. 

Mr.  Poynter  had  now  to  account  for  a 
large  trust  estate  which  had  somehow  dwin 
dled.  Unhappily,  princes  are  not  the  only 
people  in  whom  you  must  not  put  your  trust. 
As  to  myself,  Professor  L.  somehow  got  to 
know  the  facts,  and  cut  me  dead.  It  was 


32    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

unpleasant,  but  I  had  my  five  hundred  dol 
lars,  and —  I  needed  them.  I  do  not  see  how 
I  could  have  been  more  careful. 

After  this  things  got  worse.  Mr.  Poynter 
broke,  and  did  not  even  pay  my  last  bill.  I 
had  to  accept  several  rather  doubtful  cases, 
and  once  a  policeman  I  knew  advised  me 
that  I  had  better  be  on  my  guard. 

But,  really,  so  long  as  I  adhered  to  the 
common  code  of  my  profession  I  was  in  dan 
ger  of  going  without  my  dinner. 

Just  as  I  was  at  my  worst  and  in  despair 
something  always  turned  up,  but  it  was  sure 
to  be  risky ;  and  now  my  aunt  refused  to  see 
me,  and  Peninnah  wrote  me  goody-goody 
letters,  and  said  Aunt  Rachel  had  been  un 
able  to  find  certain  bank-notes  she  had  hid 
den,  and  vowed  I  had  taken  them.  This  Pe 
ninnah  did  not  think  possible.  I  agreed 
with  her.  The  notes  were  found  somewhat 
later  by  Peninnah  in  the  toes  of  a  pair  of  my 
aunt's  old  slippers.  Of  course  I  wrote  an 
indignant  letter.  My  aunt  declared  that 
Peninnah  had  stolen  the  notes,  and  restored 
them  when  they  were  missed.  Poor  Penin 
nah  !  This  did  not  seem  to  me  very  likely, 
but  Peninnah  did  love  fine  clothes. 

One  night,  as  I  was  debating  with  myself 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     33 

as  to  how  I  was  to  improve  my  position,  I 
heard  a  knock  on  my  shutter,  and,  going  to 
the  door,  let  in  a  broad-shouldered  man  with 
a  whisky  face  and  a  great  hooked  nose.  He 
wore  a  heavy  black  beard  and  mustache,  and 
looked  like  the  wolf  in  the  pictures  of  Red 
Riding-hood  which  I  had  seen  as  a  child. 

"  Your  name  's  Sandcraf  t  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"Yes;  that  7s  my  name  —  Dr.  Sandcraf  t." 

As  he  sat  down  he  shook  the  snow  over 
everything,  and  said  coolly :  "  Set  down,  doc; 
I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  said  I. 

The  man  looked  around  the  room  rather 
scornfully,  at  the  same  time  throwing  back 
his  coat  and  displaying  a  red  neckerchief 
and  a  huge  garnet  pin.  "  Guess  you  're  not 
overly  rich,"  he  said. 

"Not  especially,"  said  I.  "What's  that 
your  business  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  merely  said, 
"  Know  Simon  Stagers  ?  " 

"  Can't  say  I  do,"  said  I,  cautiously.  Simon 
was  a  burglar  who  had  blown  off  two  fingers 
when  mining  a  safe.  I  had  attended  him 
while  he  was  hiding. 

"  Can't  say  you  do.  Well,  you  can  lie,  and 
no  mistake.  Come,  now,  doc.  Simon  says 


34     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

you  're  safe,  and  I  want  to  have  a  leetle 
plain  talk  with  you." 

With  this  he  laid  ten  gold  eagles  on  the 
table.  I  put  out  my  hand  instinctively. 

"Let  'em  alone,"  cried  the  man,  sharply. 
"  They  're  easy  earned,  and  ten  more  like  'em." 

"For  doing  what?"  I  said. 

The  man  paused  a  moment,  and  looked 
around  him  ;  next  he  stared  at  me,  and  loos 
ened  his  cravat  with  a  hasty  pull.  "  You  're 
the  coroner,"  said  he. 

"  I !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  're  the  coroner ;  don't  you  un 
derstand  ? "  and  so  saying,  he  shoved  the  gold 
pieces  toward  me. 

"  Very  good,"  said  I ;  "  we  will  suppose  I  m 
the  coroner.  What  next  ? " 

"  And  being  the  coroner/'  said  he,  "  you  get 
this  note,  which  requests  you  to  call  at  No.  9 
Blank  street  to  examine  the  body  of  a  young 
man  which  is  supposed  —  only  supposed,  you 
see  —  to  have  —  well,  to  have  died  under  sus 
picious  circumstances." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  he  returned ;  "  not  till  I  know  how 
you  like  it.  Stagers  and  another  knows  it ; 
and  it  would  n't  be  very  safe  for  you  to  split, 
besides  not  making  nothing  out  of  it.  But 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    35 

what  I  say  is  this,  Do  you  like  the  business 
of  coroner  ?  " 

I  did  not  like  it ;  but  just  then  two  hun 
dred  in  gold  was  life  to  me,  so  I  said  :  "  Let 
me  hear  the  whole  of  it  first.  I  am  safe." 

"That  's  square  enough/'  said  the  man. 
"My  wife  's  got" — correcting  himself  with 
a  shivery  shrug — "my  wife  had  a  brother 
that  took  to  cutting  up  rough  because  when 
I'd  been  up  too  late  I  handled  her  a  leetle 
hard  now  and  again. 

"  Luckily  he  fell  sick  with  typhoid  just 
then  —  you  see,  he  lived  with  us.  When  he 
got  better  I  guessed  he  'd  drop  all  that ;  but 
somehow  he  was  worse  than  ever  —  clean  off 
his  head,  and  strong  as  an  ox.  My  wife  said 
to  put  him  away  in  an  asylum.  I  did  n't 
think  that  would  do.  At  last  he  tried  to  get 
out.  He  was  going  to  see  the  police  about  — 
well  —  the  thing  was  awful  serious,  and  my 
wife  carrying  on  like  mad,  and  wanting  doc 
tors.  I  had  no  mind  to  run,  and  something 
had  got  to  be  done.  So  Simon  Stagers  and 
I  talked  it  over.  The  end  of  it  was,  he  took 
worse  of  a  sudden,  and  got  so  he  did  n't  know 
nothing.  Then  I  rushed  for  a  doctor.  He 
said  it  was  a  perforation,  and  there  ought  to 
have  been  a  doctor  when  he  was  first  took  sick. 


36    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

"Well,  the  man  died,  and  as  I  kept  about 
tlie  house,  my  wife  had  no  chance  to  talk. 
The  doctor  fussed  a  bit,  but  at  last  he  gave  a 
certificate.  I  thought  we  were  done  with  it. 
But  my  wife  she  writes  a  note  and  gives  it  to 
a  boy  in  the  alley  to  put  in  the  post.  We 
suspicioned  her,  and  Stagers  was  on  the 
watch.  After  the  boy  got  away  a  bit,  Simon 
bribed  him  with  a  quarter  to  give  him  the 
note,  which  was  n't  no  less  than  a  request  to 
the  coroner  to  come  to  the  house  to-morrow 
and  make  an  examination,  as  foul  play  was 
suspected  —  and  poison." 

When  the  man  quit  talking  he  glared  at 
me.  I  sat  still.  I  was  cold  all  over.  I  was 
afraid  to  go  on,  and  afraid  to  go  back,  besides 
which,  I  did  not  doubt  that  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  money  in  the  case. 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  "  it  's  nonsense ;  only 
I  suppose  you  don't  want  the  officers  about, 
and  a  fuss,  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Exactly,"  said  my  friend.  "It 's  all  bosh 
about  poison.  You  're  the  coroner.  You 
take  this  note  and  come  to  my  house.  Says 
you:  'Mrs.  File,  are  you  the  wroman  that 
wrote  this  note  ?  Because  in  that  case  I  must 
examine  the  body.' " 

11 1  see,"  said  I ;  "  she  need  n't  know  who  I 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    37 

am,  or  anything  else ;  but  if  I  tell  her  it 's  all 
right,  do  you  think  she  won't  want  to  know 
why  there  is  n't  a  jury,  and  so  on  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,"  said  the  man,  "  the  girl  is  n't 
over  seventeen,  and  does  n't  know  no  more 
than  a  baby.  As  we  live  up-town  miles 
away,  she  won't  know  anything  about  you." 

"  I  '11  do  it,"  said  I,  suddenly,  for,  as  I  saw, 
it  involved  no  sort  of  risk  ;  "  but  I  must  have 
three  hundred  dollars." 

"  And  fifty,"  added  the  wolf,  "  if  you  do  it 
well." 

Then  I  knew  it  was  serious. 

With  this  the  man  buttoned  about  him  a 
shaggy  gray  overcoat,  and  took  his  leave 
without  a  single  word  in  addition. 

A  minute  later  he  came  back  and  said : 
"  Stagers  is  in  this  business,  and  I  was  to  re 
mind  you  of  Lou  Wilson, —  I  forgot  that, — 
the  woman  that  died  last  year.  That 's  all." 
Then  he  went  away,  leaving  me  in  a  cold 
sweat.  I  knew  now  I  had  no  choice.  I  un 
derstood  why  I  had  been  selected. 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  that  night  I 
could  n't  sleep.  I  thought  to  myself,  at  last, 
that  I  would  get  up  early,  pack  a  few  clothes, 
and  escape,  leaving  my  books  to  pay  as  they 
might  my  arrears  of  rent.  Looking  out  of 


38    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

the  window,  however,  in  the  morning,  I  saw 
Stagers  prowling  about  the  opposite  pave 
ment  ;  and  as  the  only  exit  except  the  street 
door  was  an  alleyway  which  opened  along 
side  of  the  front  of  the  house,  I  gave  myself 
up  for  lost.  About  ten  o'clock  I  took  my  case 
of  instruments  and  started  for  File's  house,  fol 
lowed,  as  I  too  well  understood,  by  Stagers. 

I  knew  the  house,  which  was  in  a  small  up 
town  street,  by  its  closed  windows  and  the 
craped  bell,  which  I  shuddered  as  I  touched. 
However,  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back,  and  I 
therefore  inquired  for  Mrs.  File.  A  haggard- 
looking  young  woman  came  down,  and  led 
me  into  a  small  parlor,  for  whose  darkened 
light  I  was  thankful  enough. 

"  Did  you  write  this  note  ? " 

"  I  did,"  said  the  woman,  "  if  you  're  the 
coroner.  Joe  File — he  's  my  husband  —  he  's 
gone  out  to  see  about  the  funeral.  I  wish  it 
was  his,  I  do." 

"  What  do  you  suspect  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  '11  tell  you,"  she  returned  in  a  whisper. 
"  I  think  he  was  made  away  with.  I  think 
there  was  foul  play.  I  think  he  was  poisoned. 
That 's  what  I  think." 

"I  hope  you  may  be  mistaken,"  said  I. 
"  Suppose  you  let  me  see  the  body." 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    41 

"  You  shall  see  it,"  she  replied ;  and  follow 
ing  her,  I  went  up-stairs  to  a  front  chamber, 
where  I  found  the  corpse. 

"  Get  it  over  soon,"  said  the  woman,  with 
strange  firmness.  "  If  there  ain't  no  murder 
been  done  I  shall  have  to  run  for  it ;  if  there 
was" — and  her  face  set  hard  —  "  I  guess  I  '11 
stay."  With  this  she  closed  the  door  and 
left  me  with  the  dead. 

If  I  had  known  what  was  before  me  I 
never  could  have  gone  into  the  thing  at  all. 
It  looked  a  little  better  when  I  had  opened 
a  window  and  let  in  plenty  of  light ;  for  al 
though  I  was,  on  the  whole,  far  less  afraid 
of  dead  than  living  men,  I  had  an  absurd 
feeling  that  I  was  doing  this  dead  man  a 
distinct  wrong  —  as  if  it  mattered  to  the 
dead,  after  all !  When  the  affair  was  over, 
I  thought  more  of  the  possible  consequences 
than  of  its  relation  to  the  dead  man  himself ; 
but  do  as  I  would  at  the  time,  I  was  in  a 
ridiculous  funk,  and  especially  when  going 
through  the  forms  of  a  post-mortem  exami 
nation. 

I  am  free  to  confess  now  that  I  was  care 
ful  not  to  uncover  the  man's  face,  and  that 
when  it  was  over  I  backed  to  the  door  and 
hastily  escaped  from  the  room.  On  the  stairs 


42     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

opposite  to  me  Mrs.  File  was  seated,  with  her 
bonnet  on  and  a  bundle  in  her  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  rising  as  she  spoke,  and 
with  a  certain  eagerness  in  her  tone,  "  what 
killed  him  ?  Was  it  poison  ?  " 

"  Poison,  my  good  woman ! "  said  I.  "When 
a  man  has  typhoid  fever  he  don't  need  poison 
to  kill  him.  He  had  a  relapse,  that 's  all." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  he  was  n't  poi 
soned,"  said  she,  with  more  than  a  trace  of 
disappointment  in  her  voice  —  "  not  poisoned 
at  all?" 

"  No  more  than  you  are,"  said  I.  "If  I  had 
found  any  signs  of  foul  play  I  should  have 
had  a  regular  inquest.  As  it  is,  the  less  said 
about  it  the  better.  The  fact  is,  it  would 
have  been  much  wiser  to  have  kept  quiet  at 
the  beginning.  I  can't  understand  why  you 
should  have  troubled  me  about  it  at  all.  The 
man  had  a  perforation.  It  is  common  enough 
in  typhoid." 

"  That  's  what  the  doctor  said  —  I  did  n't 
believe  him.  I  guess  now  the  sooner  I  leave 
the  better  for  me." 

"  As  to  that,"  I  returned,  "  it  is  none  of  my 
business ;  but  you  may  rest  certain  about  the 
cause  of  your  brother's  death." 

My  fears    were    somewhat    quieted    that 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    43 

evening  when  Stagers  and  the  wolf  appeared 
with  the  remainder  of  the  money,  and  I 
learned  that  Mrs.  File  had  fled  from  her 
home  and,  as  File  thought  likely,  from  the 
city  also.  A  few  months  later  File  himself 
disappeared,  and  Stagers  found  his  way  for 
the  third  time  into  the  penitentiary.  Then  I 
felt  at  ease.  I  now  see,  for  my  own  part, 
that  I  was  guilty  of  more  than  one  mistake, 
and  that  I  displayed  throughout  a  want  of 
intelligence.  I  ought  to  have  asked  more, 
and  also  might  have  got  a  good  fee  from 
Mrs.  File  on  account  of  my  services  as 
coroner.  It  served  me,  however,  as  a  good 
lesson;  but  it  was  several  months  before  I 
felt  quite  comfortable. 

Meanwhile  money  became  scarce  once  more, 
and  I  was  driven  to  my  wit's  end  to  devise 
how  I  should  continue  to  live  as  I  had  done. 
I  tried,  among  other  plans,  that  of  keeping 
certain  pills  and  other  medicines,  which  I 
sold  to  my  patients ;  but  on  the  whole  I  found 
it  better  to  send  all  my  prescriptions  to  one 
druggist,  who  charged  the  patient  ten  or 
twenty  cents  over  the  correct  price,  and 
handed  this  amount  to  me. 

In  some  cases  I  am  told  the  percentage  is 
supposed  to  be  a  donation  on  the  part  of  the 


44     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

apothecary;  but  I  rather  fancy  the  patient 
pays  for  it  in  the  end.  It  is  one  of  the  ab 
surd  vagaries  of  the  profession  to  discoun 
tenance  the  practice  I  have  described,  but  I 
wish,  for  my  part,  I  had  never  done  anything 
more  foolish  or  more  dangerous.  Of  course 
it  inclines  a  doctor  to  change  his  medicines  a 
good  deal,  and  to  order  them  in  large  quan 
tities,  which  is  occasionally  annoying  to  the 
poor ;  yet,  as  I  have  always  observed,  there  is 
no  poverty  as  painful  as  your  own,  so  that  I 
prefer  to  distribute  pecuniary  suffering  among 
many  rather  than  to  concentrate  it  on  myself. 
That 's  a  rather  neat  phrase. 

About  six  months  after  the  date  of  this  an 
noying  adventure,  an  incident  occurred  which 
altered  somewhat,  and  for  a  time  improved, 
my  professional  position.  During  my  morn 
ing  office-hour  an  old  woman  came  in,  and 
putting  down  a  large  basket,  wiped  her  face 
with  a  yellow-cotton  handkerchief,  and  after 
wards  with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  Then 
she  looked  around  uneasily,  got  up,  settled 
her  basket  on  her  arm  with  a  jerk  which  may 
have  decided  the  future  of  an  egg  or  two,  and 
remarked  briskly :  "  Don't  see  no  little  bottles 
about;  got  the  wrong  stall,  I  guess.  You 
ain't  no  homeopath  doctor,  are  you  °? " 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY   OF  A  QUACK    45 

With  great  presence  of  mind,  I  replied: 
"  Well,  ma'am,  that  depends  upon  what  you 
want.  Some  of  my  patients  like  one,  and 
some  like  the  other."  I  was  about  to  add, 
"  You  pay  your  money  and  you  take  your 
choice,"  but  thought  better  of  it,  and  held  my 
peace,  refraining  from  classical  quotation. 

"  Being  as  that 's  the  case,"  said  the  old  lady, 
"  I  '11  just  tell  you  my  symptoms.  You  said 
you  give  either  kind  of  medicine,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Just  so,"  replied  I. 

"  Clams  or  oysters,  whichever  opens  most 
lively,  as  my  old  Joe  says  —  tends  the  oyster- 
stand  at  stall  No.  9.  Happen  to  know  Joe  ? " 

No,  I  did  not  know  Joe  ;  but  what  were  the 
symptoms  ? 

They  proved  to  be  numerous,  and  included 
a  stunning  in  the  head  and  a  misery  in  the 
side,  with  bokin  after  victuals. 

I  proceeded,  of  course,  to  apply  a  stetho 
scope  over  her  ample  bosom,  though  what  I 
heard  on  this  and  similar  occasions  I  should 
find  it  rather  difficult  to  state.  I  remember 
well  my  astonishment  in  one  instance  where, 
having  unconsciously  applied  my  instrument 
over  a  clamorous  silver  watch  in  the  watch- 
fob  of  a  sea-captain,  I  concluded  for  a  mo 
ment  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  rather 


46    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

remarkable  displacement  of  the  heart.  As  to 
my  old  lady,  whose  name  was  Checkers,  and 
who  kept  an  apple-stand  near  by,  I  told  her 
that  I  was  out  of  pills  just  then,  but  would 
have  plenty  next  day.  Accordingly,  I  pro 
ceeded  to  invest  a  small  amount  at  a  place 
called  a  homeopathic  pharmacy,  which  I  re 
member  amused  me  immensely. 

A  stout  little  German,  with  great  silver 
spectacles,  sat  behind  a  counter  containing 
numerous  jars  of  white  powders  labeled 
concisely  "Lac.,"  "Led.,"  "Onis./>  "Op.," 
"  Puls.,"  etc.,  while  behind  him  were  shelves 
filled  with  bottles  of  what  looked  like  minute 
white  shot. 

"I  want  some  homeopathic  medicine," 
said  I. 

"  Vat  kindt !  "  said  my  friend.  "  Vat  you 
vants  to  cure  ?  " 

I  explained  at  random  that  I  wished  to 
treat  diseases  in  general. 

"  Veil,  ve  gifs  you  a  case,  mit  a  pook,"  and 
thereon  produced  a  large  box  containing  bot 
tles  of  small  pills  and  powders,  labeled  vari 
ously  with  the  names  of  the  diseases,  so  that 
all  you  required  was  to  use  the  headache  or 
colic  bottle  in  order  to  meet  the  needs  of 
those  particular  maladies. 


I  was  struck  at  first  with  the  exquisite  sim 
plicity  of  this  arrangement ;  but  before  pur 
chasing,  I  happened  luckily  to  turn  over  the 
leaves  of  a  book,  in  two  volumes,  which  lay 
on  the  counter ;  it  was  called  "  Jahr's  Man 
ual."  Opening  at  page  310,  vol.  i,  I  lit  upon 
"  Lachesis,"  which  proved  to  my  amazement 
to  be  snake- venom.  This  Mr.  Jahr  stated  to 
be  indicated  for  use  in  upward  of  a  hundred 
symptoms.  At  once  it  occurred  to  me  that 
"  Lach."  was  the  medicine  for  my  money,  and 
that  it  was  quite  needless  to  waste  cash  on 
the  box.  I  therefore  bought  a  small  jar  of 
"Lach."  and  a  lot  of  little  pills,  and  started 
for  home. 

My  old  woman  proved  a  fast  friend ;  and 
as  she  sent  me  numerous  patients,  I  by  and 
by  altered  my  sign  to  u  Homeopathic  Physi 
cian  and  Surgeon,"  whatever  that  may  mean, 
and  was  regarded  by  my  medical  brothers  as 
a  lost  sheep,  and  by  the  little-pill  doctors  as 
one  who  had  seen  the  error  of  his  ways. 

In  point  of  fact,  my  new  practice  had  de 
cided  advantages.  All  pills  looked  and  tasted 
alike,  and  the  same  might  be  said  of  the  pow 
ders,  so  that  I  was  never  troubled  by  those 
absurd  investigations  into  the  nature  of 
remedies  which  some  patients  are  prone  to 


48    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

make.  Of  course  I  desired  to  get  business, 
and  it  was  therefore  obviously  unwise  to  give 
little  pills  of  "  Lac.,"  or  "  Puls.,"  or  "  Sep.," 
when  a  man  needed  a  dose  of  oil,  or  a  white- 
faced  girl  iron,  or  the  like.  I  soon  made  the 
useful  discovery  that  it  was  only  necessary 
to  prescribe  cod-liver  oil,  for  instance,  as  a 
diet,  in  order  to  make  use  of  it  where  re 
quired.  When  a  man  got  impatient  over  an 
ancient  ague,  I  usually  found,  too,  that  I 
could  persuade  him  to  let  me  try  a  good  dose 
of  quinine ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
was  a  distinct  pecuniary  advantage  in  those 
cases  of  the  shakes  which  could  be  made  to 
believe  that  it  "was  best  not  to  interfere 
with  nature."  I  ought  to  add  that  this  kind 
of  faith  is  uncommon  among  folks  who  cany 
hods  or  build  walls. 

For  women  who  are  hysterical,  and  go 
heart  and  soul  into  the  business  of  being 
sick,  I  have  found  the  little  pills  a  most 
charming  resort,  because  you  cannot  carry 
the  refinement  of  symptoms  beyond  what  my 
friend  Jahr  has  done  in  the  way  of  fitting 
medicines  to  them,  so  that  if  I  had  taken 
seriously  to  practising  this  double  form  of 
therapeutics,  it  had,  as  I  saw,  certain  con 
veniences. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    49 

Another  year  went  by,  and  I  was  begin 
ning  to  prosper  in  my  new  mode  of  life.  My 
medicines  (being  chiefly  milk-sugar,  with  va 
riations  as  to  the  labels)  cost  next  to  nothing ; 
and  as  I  charged  pretty  well  for  both  these 
and  my  advice,  I  was  now  able  to  start  a  gig. 

I  solemnly  believe  that  I  should  have  con 
tinued  to  succeed  in  the  practice  of  my  pro 
fession  if  it  had  not  happened  that  fate  was 
once  more  unkind  to  me,  by  throwing  in  my 
path  one  of  my  old  acquaintances.  I  had  a 
consultation  one  day  with  the  famous  homeo 
path  Dr.  Zwanzig.  As  we  walked  away  we 
were  busily  discussing  the  case  of  a  poor 
consumptive  fellow  who  previously  had  lost 
a  leg.  In  consequence  of  this  defect,  Dr. 
Zwanzig  considered  that  the  ten-thousandth 
of  a  grain  of  aurum  would  be  an  overdose, 
and  that  it  must  be  fractioned  so  as  to  allow 
for  the  departed  leg,  otherwise  the  rest  of  the 
man  would  be  getting  a  leg-dose  too  much. 
I  was  particularly  struck  with  this  view  of 
the  case,  but  I  was  still  more,  and  less  pleas 
ingly,  impressed  at  the  sight  of  my  former 
patient  Stagers,  who  nodded  to  me  familiarly 
from  the  opposite  pavement. 

I  was  not  at  all  surprised  when,  that  even 
ing  quite  late,  I  found  this  worthy  waiting  in 


50    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

my  office.  I  looked  around  uneasily,  which 
was  clearly  understood  by  my  friend,  who 
retorted :  "  Ain't  took  nothin'  of  yours,  doc. 
You  don't  seem  right  awful  glad  to  see  me. 
You  need  n't  be  afraid  —  I  've  only  fetched 
you  a  job,  and  a  right  good  one,  too." 

I  replied  that  I  had  my  regular  business, 
that  I  preferred  he  should  get  some  one  else, 
and  pretty  generally  made  Mr.  Stagers  aware 
that  I  had  had  enough  of  him.  I  did  not  ask 
him  to  sit  down,  and,  just  as  I  supposed  him 
about  to  leave,  he  seated  himself  with  a  grin, 
remarking,  "No  use,  doc;  got  to  go  into  it 
this  one  time." 

At  this  I,  naturally  enough,  grew  angry 
and  used  several  rather  violent  phrases. 

"  No  use,  doc,"  said  Stagers. 

Then  I  softened  down,  and  laughed  a  little, 
and  treated  the  thing  as  a  joke,  whatever  it 
was,  for  I  dreaded  to  hear. 

But  Stagers  was  fate.  Stagers  was  in 
evitable.  "Won't  do,  doc  —  not  even  money 
would  n't  get  you  off." 

"  No  ?  "  said  I,  interrogatively,  and  as  coolly 
as  I  could,  contriving  at  the  same  time  to 
move  toward  the  window.  It  was  summer, 
the  sashes  were  up,  the  shutters  half  drawn 
in,  and  a  policeman  whom  I  knew  was  loung- 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    51 

ing  opposite,  as  I  had  noticed  when  I  entered. 
I  would  give  Stagers  a  scare,  charge  him 
with  theft  —  anything  but  get  mixed  up  with 
his  kind  again.  It  was  the  folly  of  a  moment 
and  I  should  have  paid  dear  for  it. 

He  must  have  understood  me,  the  scoun 
drel,  for  in  an  instant  I  felt  a  cold  ring  of 
steel  against  my  ear,  and  a  tiger  clutch  on 
my  cravat.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said.  "  What  a 
fool  you  are !  Guess  you  forgot  that  there 
coroner's  business  and  the  rest."  Needless  to 
say  that  I  obeyed.  "  Best  not  try  that  again," 
continued  my  guest.  "Wait  a  moment"; 
and  rising,  he  closed  the  window. 

There  was  no  resource  left  but  to  listen ; 
and  what  followed  I  shall  condense  rather 
than  relate  it  in  the  language  employed  by 
Mr.  Stagers. 

It  appeared  that  my  other  acquaintance 
Mr.  File  had  been  guilty  of  a  cold-blooded 
and  long-premeditated  murder,  for  which  he 
had  been  tried  and  convicted.  He  now  lay 
in  jail  awaiting  his  execution,  which  was  to 
take  place  at  Carsonville,  Ohio.  It  seemed 
that  with  Stagers  and  others  he  had  formed 
a  band  of  expert  counterfeiters  in  the  West. 
Their  business  lay  in  the  manufacture  of 
South  American  currencies.  File  had  thus 


52    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

acquired  a  fortune  so  considerable  that  I  was 
amazed  at  his  having  allowed  his  passion  to 
seduce  him  into  unprofitable  crime.  In  his 
agony  he  unfortunately  thought  of  me,  and 
had  bribed  Stagers  largely  in  order  that  he 
might  be  induced  to  find  me.  "When  the 
narration  had  reached  this  stage,  and  I  had 
been  made  fully  to  understand  that  I  was  now 
and  hereafter  under  the  sharp  eye  of  Stagers 
and  his  friends,  that,  in  a  word,  escape  was 
out  of  the  question,  I  turned  on  my  tor 
mentor. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  I  said. 
"  What  does  File  expect  me  to  do '? " 

"Don't  believe  he  exactly  knows,"  said 
Stagers.  "  Something  or  other  to  get  him 
clear  of  hemp." 

"  But  what  stuff  I "  I  replied.  "  How  can  I 
help  him"?  What  possible  influence  could 
I  exert  ? " 

"  Can't  say,"  answered  Stagers,  imperturb- 
ably.  "  File  has  a  notion  you  re  'most  cun 
ning  enough  for  anything.  Best  try  some 
thing,  doc." 

"And  what  if  I  won't  do  it?"  said  I. 
"What  does  it  matter  to  me  if  the  rascal 
swings  or  no1?" 

"  Keep  cool,  doc,"  returned  Stagers.     "  I  'in 


"  '  SIT    DOWN,'    HE 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     55 

only  agent  in  this  here  business.  My  prin 
cipal,  that  's  File,  he  says:  'Tell  Sandcraft 
to  find  some  way  to  get  me  clear.  Once  out, 
I  give  him  ten  thousand  dollars.  If  he  don't 
turn  up  something  that  will  suit,  I  '11  blow 
about  that  coroner  business  and  Lou  Wilson, 
and  break  him  up  generally.' " 

"  You  don't  mean,"  said  I,  in  a  cold  sweat 
—  "  you  don't  mean  that,  if  I  can't  do  this  im 
possible  thing,  he  will  inform  on  me  ?  " 

"Just  so,"  returned  Stagers.  "Got  a 
cigar,  doc?" 

I  only  half  heard  him.  What  a  frightful 
position  !  I  had  been  leading  a  happy  and  an 
increasingly  profitable  life  —  no  scrapes  and 
no  dangers;  and  here,  on  a  sudden,  I  had 
presented  to  me  the  alternative  of  saving  a 
wretch  from  the  gallows  or  of  spending  un 
limited  years  in  a  State  penitentiary.  As 
for  the  money,  it  became  as  dead  leaves  for 
this  once  only  in  my  life.  My  brain  seemed 
to  be  spinning  round.  I  grew  weak  all  over. 

"  Cheer  up  a  little,"  said  Stagers.  "  Take 
a  nip  of  whisky.  Things  ain't  at  the  worst, 
by  a  good  bit.  You  just  get  ready,  and  we  '11 
start  by  the  morning  train.  Guess  you  '11  try 
out  something  smart  enough  as  we  travel 
along.  Ain't  got  a  heap  of  time  to  lose." 


56     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

I  was  silent.  A  great  anguish  had  me  in 
its  grip.  I  might  squirm  as  I  would,  it  was 
all  in  vain.  Hideous  plans  rose  to  my  mind, 
born  of  this  agony  of  terror.  I  might  mur 
der  Stagers,  but  what  good  would  that  do? 
As  to  File,  he  was  safe  from  my  hand.  At 
last  I  became  too  confused  to  think  any 
longer.  "  When  do  we  leave  ? "  I  said  feebly. 

"  At  six  to-morrow,"  he  returned. 

How  I  was  watched  and  guarded,  and  how 
hurried  over  a  thousand  miles  of  rail  to  my 
fate,  little  concerns  us  now.  I  find  it  dreadful 
to  recall  it  to  memory.  Above  all,  an  aching 
eagerness  for  revenge  upon  the  man  who  had 
caused  me  these  sufferings  was  uppermost  in 
my  mind.  Could  I  not  fool  the  wretch  and 
save  myself  ?  Of  a  sudden  an  idea  came  into 
my  consciousness.  Then  it  grew  and  formed 
itself,  became  possible,  probable,  seemed  to 
me  sure.  "Ah,"  said  I,  "Stagers,  give  me 
something  to  eat  and  drink."  I  had  not 
tasted  food  for  two  days. 

Within  a  day  or  two  after  my  arrival,  I 
was  enabled  to  see  File  in  his  cell,  on  the 
plea  of  being  a  clergyman  from  his  native 
place. 

I  found  that  I  had  not  miscalculated  my 
danger.  The  man  did  not  appear  to  have  the 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     57 

least  idea  as  to  how  I  was  to  help  him.  He 
only  knew  that  I  was  in  his  power,  and  he 
used  his  control  to  insure  that  something 
more  potent  than  friendship  should  be  en 
listed  in  his  behalf.  As  the  days  went  by, 
his  behavior  grew  to  be  a  frightful  thing  to 
witness.  He  threatened,  flattered,  implored, 
offered  to  double  the  sum  he  had  promised 
if  I  would  save  him.  My  really  reasonable 
first  thought  was  to  see  the  governor  of  the 
State,  and,  as  Stagers's  former  physician, 
make  oath  to  his  having  had  many  attacks  of 
epilepsy  followed  by  brief  periods  of  homicidal 
mania.  He  had,  in  fact,  had  fits  of  alcoholic 
epilepsy.  Unluckily,  the  governor  was  in  a 
distant  city.  The  time  was  short,  and  the 
case  against  my  man  too  clear.  Stagers  said 
it  would  not  do.  I  was  at  my  wit's  end. 
"  Got  to  do  something,"  said  File,  "  or  I  '11 
attend  to  your  case,  doc." 

"But,"  said  I,  "suppose  there  is  really 
nothing?" 

"  Well,"  said  Stagers  to  me  when  we  were 
alone,  "  you  get  him  satisfied,  anyhow.  He  '11 
never  let  them  hang  him,  and  perhaps  —  well, 
I  'm  going  to  give  him  these  pills  when  I  get 
a  chance.  He  asked  to  have  them.  But 
what 's  your  other  plan  ?  " 


58     THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

Stagers  knew  as  much  about  medicine  as 
a  pig  knows  about  the  opera.  So  I  set  to 
work  to  delude  him,  first  asking  if  he  could 
secure  me,  as  a  clergyman,  an  hour  alone 
with  File  just  before  the  execution.  He  said 
money  would  do  it,  and  what  was  my  plan  ? 

"Well,"  said  I,  "there  was  once  a  man 
named  Dr.  Chovet.  He  lived  in  London.  A 
gentleman  who  turned  highwayman  was  to 
be  hanged.  You  see,"  said  I,  "  this  was  about 
1760.  Well,  his  friends  bribed  the  jailer  and 
the  hangman.  The  doctor  cut  a  hole  in  the 
man's  windpipe,  very  low  down  where  it  could 
be  partly  hid  by  a  loose  cravat.  So,  as  they 
hanged  him  only  a  little  while,  and  the  breath 
went  in  and  out  of  the  opening  below  the 
noose,  he  was  only  just  insensible  when  his 
friends  got  him  —  " 

"And  he  got  well,"  cried  Stagers,  much 
pleased  with  my  rather  melodramatic  tale. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "he  got  well,  and  lived  to 
take  purses,  all  dressed  in  white.  People  had 
known  him  well,  and  when  he  robbed  his 
great-aunt,  who  was  not  in  the  secret,  she 
swore  she  had  seen  his  ghost." 

Stagers  said  that  was  a  fine  story ;  guessed 
it  would  work  ;  small  town,  new  business,  lots 
of  money  to  use.  In  fact,  the  attempt  thus  to 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK     59 

save  a  man  is  said  to  have  been  made,  but,  by 
ill  luck,  the  man  did  not  recover.  It  answered 
my  purpose,  but  how  any  one,  even  such  an 
ass  as  this  fellow,  could  believe  it  could  suc 
ceed  puzzles  me  to  this  day. 

File  became  enthusiastic  over  my  scheme, 
and  I  cordially  assisted  his  credulity.  The 
thing  was  to  keep  the  wretch  quiet  until  the 
business  blew  up  or  —  and  I  shuddered  — 
until  File,  in  despair,  took  his  pill.  I  should 
in  any  case  find  it  wise  to  leave  in  haste. 

My  friend  Stagers  had  some  absurd  mis 
givings  lest  Mr.  File's  neck  might  be  broken 
by  the  fall ;  but  as  to  this  I  was  able  to  re 
assure  him  upon  the  best  scientific  authority. 
There  were  certain  other  and  minor  questions, 
as  to  the  effect  of  sudden,  nearly  complete 
arrest  of  the  supply  of  blood  to  the  brain ; 
but  with  these  physiological  refinements  I 
thought  it  needlessly  cruel  to  distract  a  man 
in  File's  peculiar  position.  Perhaps  I  shall 
be  doing  injustice  to  my  own  intellect  if  I  do 
not  hasten  to  state  again  that  I  had  not  the 
remotest  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  my  plan  for 
any  purpose  except  to  get  me  out  of  a  very 
uncomfortable  position  and  give  me,  with 
time,  a  chance  to  escape. 

Stagers  and  I  were  both  disguised  as  clergy- 


60     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A  QUACK 

men,  and  were  quite  freely  admitted  to  the 
condemned  man's  cell.  In  fact,  there  was  in 
the  little  town  a  certain  trustful  simplicity 
about  all  their  arrangements.  The  day  but 
one  before  the  execution  Stagers  informed 
me  that  File  had  the  pills,  which  he,  Stagers, 
had  contrived  to  give  him.  Stagers  seemed 
pleased  with  our  plan.  I  was  not.  He  was 
really  getting  uneasy  and  suspicious  of  me  — 
as  I  was  soon  to  find  out. 

So  far  our  plans,  or  rather  mine,  had 
worked  to  a  marvel.  Certain  of  File's  old 
accomplices  succeeded  in  bribing  the  hang 
man  to  shorten  the  time  of  suspension.  Ar 
rangements  were  made  to  secure  me  two 
hours  alone  with  the  prisoner,  so  that  no 
thing  seemed  to  be  wanting  to  this  tomfool 
business.  I  had  assured  Stagers  that  I 
would  not  need  to  see  File  again  previous  to 
the  operation ;  but  in  the  forenoon  of  the  day 
before  that  set  for  the  execution  I  was  seized 
with  a  feverish  impatience,  which  luckily 
prompted  me  to  visit  him  once  more.  As 
usual,  I  was  admitted  readily,  and  nearly 
reached  his  cell  when  I  became  aware,  from  the 
sound  of  voices  heard  through  the  grating  in 
the  door,  that  there  was  a  visitor  in  the  cell. 
"  Who  is  with  him  ?"  I  inquired  of  the  turnkey. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     61 

"  The  doctor,"  lie  replied. 

"Doctor  ?"  I  said,  pausing.  "What  doctor  f ' 

"  Oh,  the  jail  doctor.  I  was  to  come  back 
in  half  an  hour  to  let  him  out ;  but  he  's  got 
a  quarter  to  stay.  Shall  I  let  you  in,  or  will 
you  wait  ?  " 

"No,"  I  replied;  "it  is  hardly  right  to  in 
terrupt  them.  I  will  walk  in  the  corridor  for 
ten  minutes  or  so,  and  then  you  can  come 
back  to  let  me  into  the  cell." 

"  Very  good,"  he  returned,  and  left  me. 

As  soon  as  I  was  alone,  I  cautiously  ad 
vanced  until  I  stood  alongside  of  the  door, 
through  the  barred  grating  of  which  I  was 
able  readily  to  hear  what  went  on  within. 
The  first  words  I  caught  were  these : 

"  And  you  tell  me,  doctor,  that,  even  if  a 
man's  windpipe  was  open,  the  hanging  would 
kill  him  —  are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  there  would  be  no  doubt 
of  it.  I  cannot  see  how  escape  would  be  pos 
sible.  But  let  me  ask  you  why  you  have 
sent  for  me  to  ask  these  singular  questions. 
You  cannot  have  the  faintest  hope  of  escape, 
and  least  of  all  in  such  a  manner  as  this.  I 
advise  you  to  think  about  the  fate  which  is 
inevitable.  You  must,  I  fear,  have  much  to 
reflect  upon." 


62     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

"  But,"  said  File,  "  if  I  wanted  to  try  this 
plan  of  mine,  could  n't  some  one  be  found  to 
help  me,  say  if  he  was  to  make  twenty  thou 
sand  or  so  by  it?  I  mean  a  really  good  doc 
tor."  Evidently  File  cruelly  mistrusted  my 
skill,  and  meant  to  get  some  one  to  aid  me. 

"If  you  mean  me/'  answered  the  doctor, 
"  some  one  cannot  be  found,  neither  for 
twenty  nor  fifty  thousand  dollars.  Besides, 
if  any  one  were  wicked  enough  to  venture  on 
such  an  attempt,  he  would  only  be  deceiving 
you  with  a  hope  which  would  be  utterly  vain. 
You  must  be  off  your  head." 

I  understood  all  this  with  an  increasing 
fear  in  my  mind.  I  had  meant  to  get  away 
that  night  at  all  risks.  I  saw  now  that  I  must 
go  at  once. 

After  a  pause  he  said :  "  Well,  doctor,  you 
know  a  poor  devil  in  my  fix  will  clutch  at 
straws.  Hope  I  have  not  offended  you." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  returned  the  doctor. 
"Shall  I  send  you  Mr.  Smith?''  This  was 
my  present  name ;  in  fact,  I  was  known  as 
the  Rev.  Eliphalet  Smith. 

"I  would  like  it,"  answered  File;  "but  as 
you  go  out,  tell  the  warden  I  want  to  see 
him  immediately  about  a  matter  of  great 
importance." 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK     63 

At  this  stage  I  began  to  apprehend  very 
distinctly  that  the  time  had  arrived  when  it 
would  be  wiser  for  me  to  delay  escape  no 
longer.  Accordingly,  I  waited  until  I  heard 
the  doctor  rise,  and  at  once  stepped  quietly 
away  to  the  far  end  of  the  corridor.  I  had 
scarcely  reached  it  when  the  door  which 
closed  it  was  opened  by  a  turnkey  who  had 
come  to  relieve  the  doctor  and  let  me  into  the 
cell.  Of  course  my  peril  was  imminent.  If 
the  turnkey  mentioned  my  near  presence  to  the 
prisoner,  immediate  disclosure  would  follow. 
If  some  lapse  of  time  were  secured  before  the 
warden  obeyed  the  request  from  File  that  he 
should  visit  him,  I  might  gain  thus  a  much- 
needed  hour,  but  hardly  more.  I  therefore 
said  to  the  officer :  "  Tell  the  warden  that  the 
doctor  wishes  to  remain  an  hour  longer  with 
the  prisoner,  and  that  I  shall  return  myself 
at  the  end  of  that  time." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  turnkey,  allow 
ing  me  to  pass  out,  and,  as  he  followed  me, 
relocking  the  door  of  the  corridor.  "  I  '11  tell 
him,"  he  said.  It  is  needless  to  repeat  that 
I  never  had  the  least  idea  of  carrying  out  the 
ridiculous  scheme  with  which  I  had  deluded 
File  and  Stagers,  but  so  far  Stagers's  watch 
fulness  had  given  me  no  chance  to  escape. 


64    THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

In  a  few  moments  I  was  outside  of  the 
jail  gate,  and  saw  my  fellow-clergyman,  Mr. 
Stagers,  in  full  loroadcloth  and  white  tie, 
coming  down  the  street  toward  me.  As 
usual,  he  was  on  his  guard;  but  this  time 
he  had  to  deal  with  a  man  grown  perfectly 
desperate,  with  everything  to  win  and  no 
thing  to  lose.  My  plans  were  made,  and, 
wild  as  they  were,  I  thought  them  worth  the 
trying.  I  must  evade  this  man's  terrible 
watch.  How  keen  it  was,  you  cannot  ima 
gine;  but  it  was  aided  by  three  of  the  in 
famous  gang  to  which  File  had  belonged, 
for  without  these  spies  no  one  person  could 
possibly  have  sustained  so  perfect  a  system. 

I  took  Stagers's  arm.  "What  time,"  said  I, 
"  does  the  first  train  start  for  Dayton  ? ;' 

"  At  twelve.     What  do  you  want  1 " 

"How  far  is  it?" 

"  About  fifteen  miles,"  he  replied. 

"Good.  I  can  get  back  by  eight  o'clock 
to-night." 

"  Easily,"  said  Stagers,  "  if  you  go.  What 
do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  smaller  tube  to  put  in  the  wind 
pipe  —  must  have  it,  in  fact." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  it,"  said  he,  "  but  the 
thing  's  got  to  go  through  somehow.  If  you 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    65 

must  go,  I  will  go  along  myself.  Can't  lose 
sight  of  you,  doc,  just  at  present.  You  're 
monstrous  precious.  Did  you  tell  File  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "he  's  all  right.  Come. 
We  've  no  time  to  lose." 

Nor  had  we.  Within  twenty  minutes  we 
were  seated  in  the  last  car  of  a  long  train, 
and  running  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an 
hour  toward  Dayton.  In  about  ten  minutes 
I  asked  Stagers  for  a  cigar. 

"  Can't  smoke  here,"  said  he. 

"No,"  I  answered ;  "of  course  not.  I  '11  go 
forward  into  the  smoking-car." 

"  Come  along,"  said  he,  and  we  went 
through  the  train. 

I  was  not  sorry  he  had  gone  with  me  when 
I  found  in  the  smoking-car  one  of  the  spies 
who  had  been  watching  me  so  constantly. 
Stagers  nodded  to  him  and  grinned  at  me, 
and  we  sat  down  together. 

"  Chut ! "  said  I,  "  left  my  cigar  on  the 
window-ledge  in  the  hindmost  car.  Be  back 
in  a  moment." 

This  time,  for  a  wonder,  Stagers  allowed 
me  to  leave  unaccompanied.  I  hastened 
through  to  the  nearer  end  of  the  hindmost 
car,  and  stood  on  the  platform.  I  instantly 
cut  the  signal-cord.  Then  I  knelt  down,  and, 


66     THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   QUACK 

waiting  until  the  two  cars  ran  together,  I 
tugged  at  the  connecting-pin.  As  the  cars 
came  together,  I  could  lift  it  a  little,  then  as 
the  strain  came  on  the  coupling  the  pin  held 
fast.  At  last  I  made  a  great  effort,  and  out 
it  came.  The  car  I  was  on  instantly  lost 
speed,  and  there  on  the  other  platform,  a 
hundred  feet  away,  was  Stagers  shaking  his 
fist  at  me.  He  was  beaten,  and  he  knew  it. 
In  the  end  few  people  have  been  able  to  get 
ahead  of  me. 

The  retreating  train  was  half  a  mile  away 
around  the  curve  as  I  screwed  up  the  brake 
on  my  car  hard  enough  to  bring  it  nearly  to 
a  stand.  I  did  not  wait  for  it  to  stop  entirely 
before  I  slipped  off  the  steps,  leaving  the 
other  passengers  to  dispose  of  themselves  as 
they  might  until  their  absence  should  be  dis 
covered  and  the  rest  of  the  train  return. 

As  I  wish  rather  to  illustrate  my  very  re 
markable  professional  career  than  to  amuse 
by  describing  its  lesser  incidents,  I  shall  not 
linger  to  tell  how  I  succeeded,  at  last,  in 
reaching  St.  Louis.  Fortunately,  I  had  never 
ceased  to  anticipate  the  moment  when  escape 
from  File  and  his  friends  would  be  possible, 
so  that  I  always  carried  about  with  me  the 
very  small  funds  with  which  I  had  hastily 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY   OF  A  QUACK    67 

provided  myself  upon  leaving.  The  whole 
amount  did  not  exceed  sixty-five  dollars,  but 
with  this,  and  a  gold  watch  worth  twice  as 
much,  I  hoped  to  be  able  to  subsist  until  my 
own  ingenuity  enabled  me  to  provide  more 
liberally  for  the  future.  Naturally  enough, 
I  scanned  the  papers  closely  to  discover  some 
account  of  File's  death  and  of  the  disclo 
sures  concerning  myself  which  he  was  only 
too  likely  to  have  made. 

I  came  at  last  on  an  account  of  how  he  had 
poisoned  himself,  and  so  escaped  the  hangman. 
I  never  learned  what  he  had  said  about  me, 
but  I  was  quite  sure  he  had  not  let  me  off  easy. 
I  felt  that  this  failure  to  announce  his  confes 
sions  was  probably  due  to  a  desire  on  the  part 
of  the  police  to  avoid  alarming  me.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  I  remained  long  ignorant  as  to 
whether  or  not  the  villain  betrayed  my  part 
in  that  unusual  coroner's  inquest. 

Before  many  days  I  had  resolved  to  make 
another  and  a  bold  venture.  Accordingly  ap 
peared  in  the  St.  Louis  papers  an  advertise 
ment  to  the  effect  that  Dr.  von  Ingerihoff,  the 
well-known  German  physician,  who  had  spent 
two  years  on  the  Plains  acquiring  a  know 
ledge  of  Indian  medicine,  was  prepared  to 
treat  all  diseases  by  vegetable  remedies  alone. 


68    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

Dr.  von  Ingenhoff  would  remain  in  St.  Louis 
for  two  weeks,  and  was  to  be  found  at  the 
Grayson  House  every  day  from  ten  until  two 
o'clock. 

To  my  delight,  I  got  two  patients  the  first 
day.  The  next  I  had  twice  as  many,  when  at 
once  I  hired  two  connecting  rooms,  and  made 
a  very  useful  arrangement,  which  I  may  de 
scribe  dramatically  in  the  f ollowing  way : 

There  being  two  or  three  patients  waiting 
while  I  finished  my  cigar  and  morning  julep, 
enters  a  respectable-looking  old  gentleman 
who  inquires  briskly  of  the  patients  if  this  is 
really  Dr.  von  IngenhofP  s.  He  is  told  it  is. 
My  friend  was  apt  to  overact  his  part.  I 
had  often  occasion  to  ask  him  to  be  less 
positive. 

"  Ah,"  says  he,  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see 
the  doctor.  Five  years  ago  I  was  scalped  on 
the  Plains,  and  now"— exhibiting  a  well-cov 
ered  head— "  you  see  what  the  doctor  did  for 
me.  'T  is  n't  any  wonder  I  've  come  fifty 
miles  to  see  him.  Any  of  you  been  scalped, 
gentlemen  ? " 

To  none  of  them  had  this  misfortune  ar 
rived  as  yet ;  but,  like  most  folks  in  the  lower 
ranks  of  life  and  some  in  the  upper  ones,  it 
was  pleasant  to  find  a  genial  person  who 


NY    OK    VOr    BKES    3UAI.PKU.    (IENTLEMKN  r 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    71 

would  listen  to  their  account  of  their  own 
symptoms. 

Presently,  after  hearing  enough,  the  old 
gentleman  pulls  out  a  large  watch.  "  Bless 
me !  it  's  late.  I  must  call  again.  May  I 
trouble  you,  sir,  to  say  to  the  doctor  that  his 
old  friend  called  to  see  him  and  will  drop  in 
again  to-morrow  ?  Don't  forget :  Governor 
Brown  of  Arkansas."  A  moment  later  the 
governor  visited  me  by  a  side  door,  with  his 
account  of  the  symptoms  of  my  patients. 

Enter  a  tall  Hoosier,  the  governor  having 
retired.  "  Now,  doc,"  says  the  Hoosier,  "  I  've 
been  handled  awful  these  two  years  back." 
"  Stop  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Open  your  eyes. 
There,  now,  let  me  see,"  taking  his  pulse  as  I 
speak.  "  Ah,  you  've  a  pain  there,  and  there, 
and  you  can't  sleep ;  cocktails  don't  agree  any 
longer.  Were  n't  you  bit  by  a  dog  two  years 
ago ? "  "I  was,"  says  the  Hoosier,  in  amaze 
ment.  "Sir,"  I  reply," you  have  chronic  hy 
drophobia.  It  's  the  water  in  the  cocktails 
that  disagrees  with  you.  My  bitters  will  cure 
you  in  a  week,  sir.  No  more  whisky — drink 
milk." 

The  astonishment  of  my  patient  at  these 
accurate  revelations  may  be  imagined.  He  is 
allowed  to  wait  for  his  medicine  in  the  ante- 


72    THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

room,  where  the  chances  are  in  favor  of  his 
relating  how  wonderfully  I  had  told  all  his 
symptoms  at  a  glance. 

Governor  Brown  of  Arkansas  was  a  small 
but  clever  actor,  whom  I  met  in  the  billiard- 
room,  and  who  day  after  day,  in  varying  dis 
guises  and  modes,  played  off  the  same  tricks, 
to  our  great  common  advantage. 

At  my  friend's  suggestion,  we  very  soon 
added  to  our  resources  by  the  purchase  of 
two  electromagnetic  batteries.  This  special 
means  of  treating  all  classes  of  maladies  has 
advantages  which  are  altogether  peculiar.  In 
the  first  place,  you  instruct  your  patient  that 
the  treatment  is  of  necessity  a  long  one.  A 
striking  mode  of  putting  it  is  to  say,  "Sir, 
you  have  been  six  months  getting  ill ;  it  will 
require  six  months  for  a  cure."  There  is  a 
correct  sound  about  such  a  phrase,  and  it  is 
sure  to  satisfy.  Two  sittings  a  week,  at  two 
dollars  a  sitting,  will  pay.  In  man}r  cases  the 
patient  gets  well  while  you  are  electrifying 
him.  Whether  or  not  the  electricity  cured 
him  is  a  thing  I  shall  never  know.  If,  how 
ever,  he  began  to  show  signs  of  impatience,  I 
advised  him  that  he  would  require  a  year's 
treatment,  and  suggested  that  it  would  be 
economical  for  him  to  buy  a  battery  and  use 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     73 

it  at  home.  Tims  advised,  he  pays  you  twenty 
dollars  for  an  instrument  which  cost  you  ten, 
and  you  are  rid  of  a  troublesome  case. 

If  the  reader  has  followed  me  closely,  he 
will  have  learned  that  I  am  a  man  of  large 
and  liberal  views  in  my  profession,  and  of  a 
very  justifiable  ambition.  The  idea  has  often 
occurred  to  me  of  combining  in  one  establish 
ment  all  the  various  modes  of  practice  which 
are  known  as  irregular.  This,  as  will  be 
understood,  is  really  only  a  wider  application 
of  the  idea  which  prompted  me  to  unite  in  my 
own  business  homeopathy  and  the  practice  of 
medicine.  I  proposed  to  my  partner,  accord 
ingly,  to  combine  with  our  present  business 
that  of  spiritualism,  which  I  knew  had  been 
very  profitably  turned  to  account  in  connec 
tion  with  medical  practice.  As  soon  as  he 
agreed  to  this  plan,  which,  by  the  way,  I  hoped 
to  enlarge  so  as  to  include  all  the  available 
isms,  I  set  about  making  such  preparations  as 
were  necessary.  I  remembered  having  read 
somewhere  that  a  Dr.  Schiff  had  shown  that 
he  could  produce  remarkable  "knockings,"  so 
called,  by  voluntarily  dislocating  the  great 
toe  and  then  forcibly  drawing  it  back  into  its 
socket.  A  still  better  noise  could  be  made  by 
throwing  the  tendon  of  the  peroneus  longus 


74    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

muscle  out  of  the  hollow  in  which  it  lies, 
alongside  of  the  ankle.  After  some  effort  I 
was  able  to  accomplish  both  feats  quite  readily, 
and  could  occasion  a  remarkable  variety  of 
sounds,  according  to  the  power  which  I  em 
ployed  or  the  positions  which  I  occupied  at 
the  time.  As  to  all  other  matters,  I  trusted 
to  the  suggestions  of  my  own  ingenuity, 
which,  as  a  rule,  has  rarely  failed  me. 

The  largest  success  attended  the  novel  plan 
which  my  lucky  genius  had  devised,  so  that 
soon  we  actually  began  to  divide  large  profits 
and  to  lay  by  a  portion  of  our  savings.  It  is, 
of  course,  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  desir 
able  result  was  attained  without  many  annoy 
ances  and  some  positive  danger.  My  spiritual 
revelations,  medical  and  other,  were,  as  may 
be  supposed,  only  more  or  less  happy  guesses ; 
but  in  this,  as  in  predictions  as  to  the  weather 
and  other  events,  the  rare  successes  always 
get  more  prominence  in  the  minds  of  men 
than  the  numerous  failures.  Moreover, 
whenever  a  person  has  been  fool  enough  to 
resort  to  folks  like  myself,  he  is  always  glad 
to  be  able  to  defend  his  conduct  by  bringing 
forward  every  possible  proof  of  skill  on  the 
part  of  the  men  he  has  consulted.  These  con 
siderations,  and  a  certain  love  of  mysterious 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    75 

or  unusual  means,  I  have  commonly  found 
sufficient  to  secure  an  ample  share  of  gullible 
individuals.  I  may  add,  too,  that  those  who 
would  be  shrewd  enough  to  understand  and 
expose  us  are  wise  enough  to  keep  away  alto 
gether.  Such  as  did  come  were,  as  a  rule, 
easy  enough  to  manage,  but  now  and  then  we 
hit  upon  some  utterly  exceptional  patient 
who  was  both  foolish  enough  to  consult  us 
and  sharp  enough  to  know  he  had  been  swin 
dled.  When  such  a  fellow  made  a  fuss,  it 
was  occasionally  necessary  to  return  his 
money  if  it  was  found  impossible  to  bully 
him  into  silence.  In  one  or  two  instances, 
where  I  had  promised  a  cure  upon  prepayment 
of  two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  I  was  either 
sued  or  threatened  with  suit,  and  had  to  re 
fund  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the  amount ;  but 
most  people  preferred  to  hold  their  tongues 
rather  than  expose  to  the  world  the  extent  of 
their  own  folly. 

In  one  most  disastrous  case  I  suffered  per 
sonally  to  a  degree  which  I  never  can  recall 
without  a  distinct  sense  of  annoyance,  both 
at  my  own  want  of  care  and  at  the  disgusting 
consequences  which  it  brought  upon  me. 

Early  one  morning  an  old  gentleman  called, 
in  a  state  of  the  utmost  agitation,  and  ex- 


76    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

plained  that  he  desired  to  consult  the  spirits 
as  to  a  heavy  loss  which  he  had  experienced 
the  night  before.  He  had  left,  he  said,  a  sum 
of  money  in  his  pantaloons  pocket  upon  going 
to  bed.  In  the  morning  he  had  changed  his 
clothes  and  gone  out,  forgetting  to  remove  the 
notes.  Returning  in  an  hour  in  great  haste, 
he  discovered  that  the  garment  still  lay  upon 
the  chair  where  he  had  thrown  it,  but  that  the 
money  was  missing.  I  at  once  desired  him  to 
be  seated,  and  proceeded  to  ask  him  certain 
questions,  in  a  chatty  way,  about  the  habits 
of  his  household,  the  amount  lost,  and  the  like, 
expecting  thus  to  get  some  clue  which  would 
enable  me  to  make  my  spirits  display  the  re 
quisite  share  of  sagacity  in  pointing  out  the 
thief.  I  learned  readily  that  he  was  an  old 
and  wealthy  man,  a  little  close,  too,  I  suspected, 
and  that  he  lived  in  a  large  house  with  but 
two  servants,  and  an  only  son  about  twenty- 
one  years  old.  The  servants  were  both  women 
who  had  lived  in  the  household  many  years, 
and  were  probably  innocent.  Unluckily,  re 
membering  my  own  youthful  career,  I  pres 
ently  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  young 
man  had  been  the  delinquent.  When  I  ven 
tured  to  inquire  a  little  as  to  his  habits,  the 
old  gentleman  cut  me  very  short,  remarking 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    77 

that  he  came  to  ask  questions,  and  not  to  be 
questioned,  and  that  he  desired  at  once  to 
consult  the  spirits.  Upon  this  I  sat  down  at 
a  table,  and,  after  a  brief  silence,  demanded 
in  a  solemn  voice  if  there  were  any  spirits 
present.  By  industriously  cracking  my  big 
toe-joint  I  was  enabled  to  represent  at  once 
the  presence  of  a  numerous  assembly  of  these 
worthies.  Then  I  inquired  if  any  one  of  them 
had  been  present  when  the  robbery  was  ef 
fected.  A  prompt  double  knock  replied  in 
the  affirmative.  I  may  say  here,  by  the  way, 
that  the  unanimity  of  the  spirits  as  to  their 
use  of  two  knocks  for  "yes"  and  one  for 
"no"  is  a  very  remarkable  point,  and  shows, 
if  it  shows  anything,  how  perfect  and  univer 
sal  must  be  the  social  intercourse  of  the  re 
spected  departed.  It  is  worthy  of  note,  also, 
that  if  the  spirit — I  will  not  say  the  medium 
—perceives  after  one  knock  that  it  were  wiser 
to  say  yes,  he  can  conveniently  add  the  second 
tap.  Some  such  arrangement  in  real  life 
would,  it  appears  to  me,  be  highly  desirable. 

It  seemed  that  the  spirit  was  that  of  Vidocq, 
the  French  detective.  I  had  just  read  a  trans 
lation  of  his  memoirs,  and  he  seemed  to  me  a 
very  available  spirit  to  call  upon. 

As  soon  as  I  explained  that  the  spirit  who 


78    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

answered  had  been  a  witness  of  the  theft,  the 
old  man  became  strangely  agitated.  "Who 
was  it?"  said  he.  At  once  the  spirit  indi 
cated  a  desire  to  use  the  alphabet.  As  we 
went  over  the  letters,— always  a  slow  method, 
but  useful  when  you  want  to  observe  excitable 
people,— my  visitor  kept  saying,  "Quicker- 
go  quicker."  At  length  the  spirit  spelled  out 
the  words,  "I  know  not  his  name." 

"Was  it,"  said  the  gentleman—"  was  it  a— 
was  it  one  of  my  household  ? " 

I  knocked  "yes"  without  hesitation;  who 
else,  indeed,  could  it  have  been  f 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  went  on,  "  if  I  ask  you  for 
a  little  whisky." 

This  I  gave  him.  He  continued :  "  Was  it 
Susan  or  Ellen  ? " 

"  No,  no  !  " 

"  Was  it—"  He  paused.  "  If  I  ask  a  ques 
tion  mentally,  will  the  spirits  reply  ? "  I  knew 
what  he  meant.  He  wanted  to  ask  if  it  was 
his  son,  but  did  not  wish  to  speak  openly. 

"  Ask,"  said  I. 

"  I  have,"  he  returned. 

I  hesitated.  It  was  rarely  my  policy  to 
commit  myself  definitely,  yet  here  I  fancied, 
from  the  facts  of  the  case  and  his  own  terrible 
anxiety,  that  he  suspected,  or  more  than  sus- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    79 

pected,  his  sou  as  the  guilty  person.  I  be 
came  sure  of  this  as  I  studied  his  face.  At 
all  events,  it  would  be  easy  to  deny  or  explain 
in  case  of  trouble ;  and,  after  all,  what  slan 
der  was  there  in  two  knocks  ?  I  struck  twice 
as  usual. 

Instantly  the  old  gentleman  rose  up,  very 
white,  but  quite  firm.  "  There,"  he  said,  and 
cast  a  bank-note  on  the  table,  "  I  thank  you," 
and  bending  his  head  on  his  breast,  walked, 
as  I  thought,  with  great  effort  out  of  the  room. 

On  the  following  morning,  as  I  made  my 
first  appearance  in  my  outer  room,  which  con 
tained  at  least  a  dozen  persons  awaiting  ad 
vice,  who  should  I  see  standing  by  the  window 
but  the  old  gentleman  with  sandy-gray  hair? 
Along  with  him  was  a  stout  young  man  with 
a  head  as  red  as  mine,  and  mustache  and 
whiskers  to  match.  Probably  the  son,  I 
thought — ardent  temperament,  remorse,  come 
to  confess,  etc.  I  was  never  more  mistaken 
in  my  life.  I  was  about  to  go  regularly 
through  my  patients  when  the  old  gentleman 
began  to  speak. 

"  I  called,  doctor,"  said  he,  "  to  explain  the 
little  matter  about  which  I — about  which  I — " 

"Troubled  your  spirits  yesterday,"  added 
the  youth,  jocosely,  pulling  his  mustache. 


80    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

"Beg  pardon,"  I  returned;  "had  we  not 
better  talk  this  over  in  private  ?  Come  into 
my  office,"  I  added,  touching  the  younger  man 
on  the  arm. 

Would  you  believe  it  ?  he  took  out  his  hand 
kerchief  and  dusted  the  place  I  had  touched. 
"Better  not,"  said  he.  "Go  on,  father;  let 
us  get  done  with  this  den." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  elder  person,  address 
ing  the  patients,  "  I  called  here  yesterday,  like 
a  fool,  to  ask  who  had  stolen  from  me  a  sum 
of  money  which  I  believed  I  left  in  my  room 
on  going  out  in  the  morning.  This  doctor 
here  and  his  spirits  contrived  to  make  me  sus 
pect  my  only  son.  Well,  I  charged  him  at 
once  with  the  crime  as  soon  as  I  got  back 
home,  and  what  do  you  think  he  did?  He 
said,  '  Father,  let  us  go  up-stairs  and  look  for 
it,'  and—" 

Here  the  young  man  broke  in  with :  "  Come, 
father ;  don't  worry  yourself  for  nothing  " ; 
and  then  turning,  added :  "To  cut  the  thing 
short,  he  found  the  notes  under  his  candle 
stick,  where  he  left  them  on  going  to  bed. 
This  is  all  of  it.  We  came  here  to  stop  this 
fellow  "  (by  which  he  meant  me)  "  from  carry 
ing  a  slander  further.  I  advise  you,  good 
people,  to  profit  by  the  matter,  and  to  look  up 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     81 

a  more  honest  doctor,  if  doctoring  be  what 
you  want." 

As  soon  as  he  had  ended,  I  remarked  sol 
emnly  :  "  The  words  of  the  spirits  are  not  my 
words.  Who  shall  hold  them  accountable  ? " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Come, 
father  " ;  and  they  left  the  room. 

Now  was  the  time  to  retrieve  my  character. 
"Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "you  have  heard  this 
very  singular  account.  Trusting  the  spirits 
utterly  and  entirely  as  I  do,  it  occurs  to  me 
that  there  is  no  reason  why  they  may  not, 
after  all,  have  been  right  in  their  suspicions 
of  this  young  person.  Who  can  say  that, 
overcome  by  remorse,  he  may  not  have  seized 
the  time  of  his  father's  absence  to  replace  the 
money  ? " 

To  my  amazement,  up  gets  a  little  old  man 
from  the  corner.  "  Well,  you  are  a  low  cuss !  " 
said  he,  and  taking  up  a  basket  beside  him, 
hobbled  hastily  out  of  the  room.  You  may 
be  sure  I  said  some  pretty  sharp  things  to  him, 
for  I  was  out  of  humor  to  begin  with,  and  it 
is  one  thing  to  be  insulted  by  a  stout  young 
man,  and  quite  another  to  be  abused  by  a 
wretched  old  cripple.  However,  he  went  away, 
and  I  supposed,  for  my  part,  that  I  was  done 
with  the  whole  business. 


82     THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

An  hour  later,  however,  I  heard  a  rough 
knock  at  my  door,  and  opening  it  hastily,  saw 
my  red-headed  young  man  with  the  cripple. 

"  Now,"  said  the  former,  taking  me  by  the 
collar,  and  pulling  me  into  the  room  among 
my  patients,  "I  want  to  know,  my  man,  if 
this  doctor  said  that  it  was  likely  I  was  the 
thief  after  all?" 

"  That 's  what  he  said,"  replied  the  cripple ; 
"just  about  that,  sir." 

I  do  not  desire  to  dwell  on  the  after  con 
duct  of  this  hot-headed  young  man.  It  was 
the  more  disgraceful  as  I  offered  but  little  re 
sistance,  and  endured  a  beating  such  as  I 
would  have  hesitated  to  inflict  upon  a  dog. 
Nor  was  this  all.  He  warned  me  that  if  I 
dared  to  remain  in  the  city  after  a  week  he 
would  shoot  me.  In  the  East  I  should  have 
thought  but  little  of  such  a  threat,  but  here 
it  was  only  too  likely  to  be  practically  carried 
out.  Accordingly,  with  my  usual  decision  of 
character,  but  with  much  grief  and  reluctance, 
I  collected  my  whole  fortune,  which  now 
amounted  to  at  least  seven  thousand  dollars, 
and  turned  my  back  upon  this  ungrateful 
town.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  also  left  be 
hind  me  the  last  of  my  good  luck. 

I  traveled  in  a  leisurely  way  until  I  reached 


ffV 


•HK    WARNED    ME   THAT    .     .     .     HK    WOULD   SHOOT   ME.' 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY   OF  A  QUACK     85 

Boston.  The  country  anywhere  would  have 
been  safer,  but  I  do  not  lean  to  agricultural 
pursuits.  It  seemed  an  agreeable  city,  and  I 
decided  to  remain. 

I  took  good  rooms  at  Parker's,  and  conclud 
ing  to  enjoy  life,  amused  myself  in  the  com 
pany  of  certain,  I  may  say  uncertain,  young 
women  who  danced  at  some  of  the  theaters. 
I  played  billiards,  drank  rather  too  much, 
drove  fast  horses,  and  at  the  end  of  a  delight 
ful  year  was  shocked  to  find  myself  in  debt, 
and  with  only  seven  dollars  and  fifty-three 
cents  left— I  like  to  be  accurate.  I  had  only 
one  resource :  I  determined  to  visit  my  deaf 
aunt  and  Peninnah,  and  to  see  what  I  could 
do  in  the  role  of  the  prodigal  nephew.  At 
all  events,  I  should  gain  time  to  think  of  what 
new  enterprise  I  could  take  up ;  but,  above 
all,  I  needed  a  little  capital  and  a  house  over 
my  head.  I  had  pawned  nearly  everything 
of  any  value  which  I  possessed. 

I  left  my  debts  to  gather  interest,  and  went 
away  to  Woodbury.  It  was  the  day  before 
Christmas  when  I  reached  the  little  Jersej' 
town,  and  it  was  also  by  good  luck  Sunday- 
I  was  hungry  and  quite  penniless.  I  wan 
dered  about  until  church  had  begun,  because 
I  was  sure  then  to  find  Aunt  Rachel  and  Pe- 


86    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

ninnah  out  at  the  service,  and  I  desired  to 
explore  a  little.  The  house  was  closed,  and 
even  the  one  servant  absent.  I  got  in  with 
ease  at  the  back  through  the  kitchen,  and  hav 
ing  at  least  an  hour  and  a  half  free  from  in 
terruption,  I  made  a  leisurely  search.  The 
role  of  prodigal  was  well  enough,  but  here 
was  a  better  chance  and  an  indulgent  oppor 
tunity. 

In  a  few  moments  I  found  the  famous  Bible 
hid  away  under  Aunt  Rachel's  mattress.  The 
Bible  bank  was  fat  with  notes,  but  I  intended 
to  be  moderate  enough  to  escape  suspicion. 
Here  were  quite  two  thousand  dollars.  I  re 
solved  to  take,  just  now,  only  one  hundred, 
so  as  to  keep  a  good  balance.  Then,  alas !  I 
lit  on  a  long  envelop,  my  aunt's  will.  Every 
cent  was  left  to  Christ  Church ;  not  a  dime  to 
poor  Pen  or  to  me.  I  was  in  a  rage.  I  tore 
up  the  will  and  replaced  the  envelop.  To 
treat  poor  Pen  that  way— Pen  of  all  people  ! 
There  was  a  heap  more  will  than  testament, 
for  all  it  was  in  the  Bible.  After  that  I 
thought  it  was  right  to  punish  the  old  witch, 
and  so  I  took  every  note  I  could  find.  When 
I  was  through  with  this  business,  I  put  back 
the  Bible  under  the  mattress,  and  observing 
that  I  had  been  quite  too  long,  I  went  down- 


THE  AUTOBIOGKAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    87 

stairs  with  a  keen  desire  to  leave  the  town  as 
early  as  possible.  I  was  tempted,  however, 
to  look  further,  and  was  rewarded  by  finding 
in  an  old  clock  case  a  small  reticule  stuffed 
with  bank-notes.  This  I  appropriated,  and 
made  haste  to  go  out.  I  was  too  late.  As  I 
went  into  the  little  entry  to  get  my  hat  and 
coat,  Aunt  Rachel  entered,  followed  by  Pe- 
ninnah. 

At  sight  of  me  my  aunt  cried  out  that  I  was 
a  monster  and  fit  for  the  penitentiary.  As 
she  could  not  hear  at  all,  she  had  the  talk  to 
herself,  and  went  by  me  and  up-stairs,  rum 
bling  abuse  like  distant  thunder  overhead. 

Meanwhile  I  was  taken  up  with  Pen.  The 
pretty  fool  was  seated  on  a  chair,  all  dressed 
up  in  her  Sunday  finery,  and  rocking  back 
ward  and  forward,  crying,  "  Oh,  oh,  ah !  "  like 
a  lamb  saying,  "  Baa,  baa,  baa !  "  She  never 
had  much  sense.  I  had  to  shake  her  to  get  a 
reasonable  word.  She  mopped  her  eyes,  and 
I  heard  her  gasp  out  that  my  aunt  had  at  last 
decided  that  I  was  the  person  who  had  thinned 
her  hoards.  This  was  bad,  but  involved  less 
inconvenience  than  it  might  have  done  an 
hour  earlier.  Amid  tears  Pen  told  me  that  a 
detective  had  been  at  the  house  inquiring  for 
me.  When  this  happened  it  seems  that  the 


88    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

poor  little  goose  had  tried  to  fool  deaf  Aunt 
Rachel  with  some  made-up  story  as  to  the  man 
having  come  about  taxes.  I  suppose  the  girl 
was  not  any  too  sharp,  and  the  old  woman,  I 
guess,  read  enough  from  merely  seeing  the 
man's  lips.  You  never  could  keep  anything 
from  her,  and  she  was  both  curious  and  sus 
picious.  She  assured  the  officer  that  I  was  a 
thief,  and  hoped  I  might  be  caught.  I  could 
not  learn  whether  the  man  told  Pen  any  par 
ticulars,  but  as  I  was  slowly  getting  at  the 
facts  we  heard  a  loud  scream  and  a  heavy 
fall. 

Pen  said,  "  Oh,  oh ! "  and  we  hurried  up 
stairs.  There  was  the  old  woman  on  the 
floor,  her  face  twitching  to  right,  and  her 
breathing  a  sort  of  hoarse  croak.  The  big 
Bible  lay  open  on  the  floor,  and  I  knew  what 
had  happened.  It  was  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 

At  this  very  unpleasant  sight  Pen  seemed 
to  recover  her  wits,  and  said :  "  Go  away,  go 
away !  Oh,  brother,  brother,  now  I  know 
you  have  stolen  her  money  and  killed  her, 
and— and  I  loved  you,  I  was  so  proud  of 
you  !  Oh,  oh  !  » 

This  was  all  very  fine,  but  the  advice  was 
good.  I  said :  "  Yes,  I  had  better  go.  Run 
and  get  some  one— a  doctor.  It  is  a  fit  of 


•  THK    BIG    BIBLE   LAV    OPEN    ON    THE    FLOOR.'' 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    91 

hysterics;  there  is  no  danger.  I  will  write 
to  you.  You  are  quite  mistaken." 

This  was  too  feeble  even  for  Pen,  and  she 
cried : 

"  No,  never ;  I  never  want  to  see  you  again. 
You  would  kill  me  next." 

"  Stuff  !  "  said  I,  and  ran  down-stairs.  I 
seized  my  coat  and  hat,  and  went  to  the 
tavern,  where  I  got  a  man  to  drive  me  to 
Camden.  I  have  never  seen  Pen  since.  As 
I  crossed  the  ferry  to  Philadelphia  I  saw  that 
I  should  have  asked  when  the  detective  had 
been  after  me.  I  suspected  from  Pen's  terror 
that  it  had  been  recently. 

It  was  Sunday  and,  as  I  reminded  myself, 
the  day  before  Christmas.  The  ground  was 
covered  with  snow,  and  as  I  walked  up  Mar 
ket  street  my  feet  were  soon  soaked.  In  my 
haste  I  had  left  my  overshoes.  I  was  very 
cold,  and,  as  I  now  see,  foolishly  fearful.  I 
kept  thinking  of  what  a  conspicuous  thing  a 
fire-red  head  is,  and  of  how  many  people 
knew  me.  As  I  reached  Woodbury  early 
and  without  a  cent,  I  had  eaten  nothing  all 
day.  I  relied  on  Pen. 

Now  I  concluded  to  go  down  into  my  old 
neighborhood  and  get  a  lodging  where  no 
references  were  asked.  Next  day  I  would 


92    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

secure  a  disguise  and  get  out  of  the  way.  I 
had  passed  the  day  without  food,  as  I  have 
just  said,  and  having  ample  means,  concluded 
to  go  somewhere  and  get  a  good  dinner.  It 
was  now  close  to  three  in  the  afternoon.  I 
was  aware  of  two  things :  that  I  was  making 
many  plans,  and  giving  them  up  as  soon  as 
made ;  and  that  I  was  suddenly  afraid  with 
out  cause,  afraid  to  enter  an  eating-house, 
and  in  fear  of  every  man  I  met. 

I  went  on,  feeling  more  and  more  chilly. 
When  a  man  is  really  cold  his  mind  does  not 
work  well,  and  now  it  was  blowing  a  keen 
gale  from  the  north.  At  Second  and  South 
I  came  plump  on  a  policeman  I  knew.  He 
looked  at  me  through  the  drifting  snow,  as  if 
he  was  uncertain,  and  twice  looked  back  after 
having  passed  me.  I  turned  west  at  Chris 
tian  street.  When  I  looked  behind  me  the 
man  was  standing  at  the  corner,  staring  after 
me.  At  the  next  turn  I  hurried  away  north 
ward  in  a  sort  of  anguish  of  terror.  I  have 
said  I  was  an  uncommon  person.  I  am.  I 
am  sensitive,  too.  My  mind  is  much  above 
the  average,  but  unless  I  am  warm  and  well 
fed  it  does  not  act  well,  and  I  make  mistakes. 
At  that  time  I  was  half  frozen,  in  need  of 
food,  and  absurdly  scared.  Then  that  old  fool 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    93 

squirming  on  the  floor  got  on  to  my  nerves. 
I  went  on  and  on,  and  at  last  into  Second 
street,  until  I  came  to  Christ  Church,  of  all 
places  for  me.  I  heard  the  sound  of  the 
organ  in  the  afternoon  service.  I  felt  I  must 
go  in  and  get  warm.  Here  was  another  silly 
notion :  I  was  afraid  of  hotels,  but  not  of  the 
church.  I  reasoned  vaguely  that  it  was  a 
dark  day,  and  darker  in  the  church,  and  so  I 
went  in  at  the  Church  Alley  entrance  and  sat 
near  the  north  door.  No  one  noticed  me.  I 
sat  still  in  a  high-backed  pew,  well  hid,  and 
wondering  what  was  the  matter  with  me.  It 
was  curious  that  a  doctor,  and  a  man  of  my 
intelligence,  should  have  been  long  in  guess 
ing  a  thing  so  simple. 

For  two  months  I  had  been  drinking  hard, 
and  for  two  days  had  quit,  being  a  man  ca 
pable  of  great  self-control,  and  also  being 
short  of  money.  Just  before  the  benediction 
I  saw  a  man  near  by  who  seemed  to  stare  at 
me.  In  deadly  fear  I  got  up  and  quickly 
slipped  through  a  door  into  the  tower  room. 
I  said  to  myself,  "  He  will  follow  me  or  wait 
outside."  I  stood  a  moment  with  my  head 
all  of  a  whirl,  and  then  in  a  shiver  of  fear 
ran  up  the  stairs  to  the  tower  until  I  got 
into  the  bell-ringer's  room.  I  was  safe.  I 


94    THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

sat  down  on  a  stool,  twitching  and  tremulous. 
There  were  the  old  books  on  bell-ringing,  and 
the  miniature  chime  of  small  bells  for  in 
struction.  The  wind  had  easy  entrance,  and 
it  swung  the  eight  ropes  about  in  a  way  I  did 
not  like.  I  remember  saying,  "  Oh,  don't  do 
that."  At  last  I  had  a  mad  desire  to  ring 
one  of  the  bells.  As  a  loop  of  rope  swung 
toward  me  it  seemed  to  hold  a  face,  and  this 
face  cried  out,  "  Come  and  hang  yourself ; 
then  the  bell  will  ring." 

If  I  slept  I  do  not  know.  I  may  have  done 
so.  Certainly  I  must  have  stayed  there  many 
hours.  I  was  dull  and  confused,  and  yet  on 
my  guard,  for  when  far  into  the  night  I 
heard  noises  below,  I  ran  up  the  steeper 
steps  which  ascend  to  the  steeple,  where  are 
the  bells.  Half-way  up  I  sat  down  on  the 
stair.  The  place  was  cold  and  the  darkness 
deep.  Then  I  heard  the  eight  ringers  down 
below.  One  said :  "  Never  knowed  a  Christ 
mas  like  this  since  Zeb  Sandcraf  t  died.  Come, 
boys !  "  I  knew  it  must  be  close  on  to  mid 
night.  Now  they  would  play  a  Christmas 
carol.  I  used  every  Christmas  to  be  roused 
up  and  carried  here  and  set  on  dad's  shoulder. 
When  they  were  done  ringing,  Number  Two 
always  gave  me  a  box  of  sugar-plums  and  a 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    95 

large  red  apple.  As  they  rang  off,  my  father 
would  cry  out,  "One,  two,"  and  so  on,  and 
then  cry,  "Elias,  all  over  town  people  are 
opening  windows  to  listen."  I  seemed  to 
hear  him  as  I  sat  in  the  gloom.  Then  I 
heard,  " All  ready;  one,  two,"  and  they  rang 
the  Christmas  carol.  Overhead  I  heard  the 
great  bells  ringing  out : 

And  all  the  bells  on  earth  shall  ring 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day. 

I  felt  suddenly  excited,  and  began  to  hum 
the  air.  Great  heavens  !  There  was  the  old 
woman,  Aunt  Rachel,  with  her  face  going 
twitch,  twitch,  the  croak  of  her  breathing 
keeping  a  sort  of  mad  time  with  "  On  Christ 
mas  day,  on  Christmas  day."  I  jumped  up. 
She  was  gone.  I  knew  in  a  hazy  sort  of  way 
what  was  the  matter  with  me,  but  I  had  still 
the  sense  to  sit  down  and  wait.  I  said  now 
it  would  be  snakes,  for  once  before  I  had 
been  almost  as  bad.  But  what  I  did  see  was 
a  little  curly-headed  boy  in  a  white  frock  and 
pantalets,  climbing  up  the  stairs  right  leg 
first ;  so  queer  of  me  to  have  noticed  that.  I 
knew  I  was  that  boy.  He  was  an  innocent- 
looking  little  chap,  and  was  smiling.  He 
seemed  to  me  to  grow  and  grow,  and  at  last 


96    THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

was  a  big,  red-headed  man  with  a  live  rat  in  his 
hand.  I  saw  nothing  more,  but  I  surely 
knew  I  needed  whisky.  I  waited  until  all 
was  still,  and  got  down  and  out,  for  I  knew 
every  window.  I  soon  found  a  tavern,  and 
got  a  drink  and  some  food.  At  once  my  fear 
left  me.  I  was  warm  at  last  and  clear  of 
head,  and  had  again  my  natural  courage.  I 
was  well  aware  that  I  was  on  the  edge  of 
delirium  tremens  and  must  be  most  prudent. 
I  paid  in  advance  for  my  room  and  treated 
myself  as  I  had  done  many  another.  Only  a 
man  of  unusual  force  could  have  managed 
his  own  case  as  I  did.  I  went  out  only  at 
night,  and  in  a  week  was  well  enough  to 
travel.  During  this  time  I  saw  now  and 
then  that  grinning  little  fellow.  Sometimes 
he  had  an  apple  and  was  eating  it.  I  do  not 
know  why  he  was  worse  to  me  than  snakes, 
or  'the  tvvitchy  old  woman  with  her  wide  eyes 
of  glass,  and  that  jerk,  jerk,  to  right. 

I  decided  to  go  back  to  Boston.  I  got  to 
New  York  prudently  in  a  roundabout  way, 
and  in  two  weeks'  time  was  traveling  east 
from  Albany. 

I  felt  well,  and  my  spirits  began  at  last  to 
rise  to  their  usual  level.  When  I  arrived  in 
Boston  I  set  myself  to  thinking  how  best  I 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK    99 

could  contrive  to  enjoy  life  and  at  the  same 
time  to  increase  my  means.  I  possessed  suffi 
cient  capital,  and  was  able  and  ready  to  em 
bark  in  whatever  promised  the  best  returns 
with  the  smallest  personal  risks.  I  settled 
myself  in  a  suburb,  paid  off  a  few  pressing 
claims,  and  began  to  reflect  with  my  ordinary 
sagacity. 

We  were  now  in  the  midst  of  a  most  absurd 
war  with  the  South,  and  it  was  becoming 
difficult  to  escape  the  net  of  conscription.  It 
might  be  wise  to  think  of  this  in  time. 
Europe  seemed  a  desirable  residence,  but  I 
needed  more  money  to  make  this  agreeable, 
and  an  investment  for  my  brains  was  what 
I  wanted  most.  Many  schemes  presented 
themselves  as  worthy  the  application  of  in 
dustry  and  talent,  but  none  of  them  alto 
gether  suited  my  case.  I  thought  at  times 
of  traveling  as  a  physiological  lecturer,  com 
bining  with  it  the  business  of  a  practitioner : 
scare  the  audience  at  night  with  an  enumera 
tion  of  symptoms  which  belong  to  ten  out  of 
every  dozen  healthy  people,  and  then  doctor 
such  of  them  as  are  gulls  enough  to  consult 
me  next  day.  The  bigger  the  fright  the 
better  the  pay.  I  was  a  little  timid,  how 
ever,  about  facing  large  audiences,  as  a  man 


100  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

will  be  naturally  if  he  has  lived  a  life  of  ad 
venture,  so  that  upon  due  consideration  I 
gave  up  the  idea  altogether. 

The  patent  medicine  business  also  looked 
well  enough,  but  it  is  somewhat  overdone  at 
all  times,  and  requires  a  heavy  outlay,  with 
the  probable  result  of  ill  success.  Indeed,  I 
believe  one  hundred  quack  remedies  fail  for 
one  that  succeeds,  and  millions  must  have 
been  wasted  in  placards,  bills,  and  advertise 
ments,  which  never  returned  half  their  value 
to  the  speculator.  I  think  I  shall  some  day 
beguile  my  time  with  writing  an  account  of 
the  principal  quack  remedies  which  have  met 
with  success.  They  are  few  in  number,  after 
all,  as  any  one  must  know  who  recalls  the 
countless  pills  and  tonics  which  are  puffed 
awhile  on  the  fences,  and  disappear,  to  be 
heard  of  no  more. 

Lastly,  I  inclined  for  a  while  to  undertake 
a  private  insane  asylum,  which  appeared  to 
me  to  offer  facilities  for  money-making,  as  to 
which,  however,  I  may  have  been  deceived  by 
the  writings  of  certain  popular  novelists.  I 
went  so  far,  I  may  say,  as  actually  to  visit 
Concord  for  the  purpose  of  finding  a  pleasant 
locality  and  a  suitable  atmosphere.  Upon 
reflection  I  abandoned  my  plans,  as  involv- 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK  101 

ing  too  much  personal  labor  to  suit  one  of 
my  easy  frame  of  mind. 

Tired  at  last  of  idleness  and  lounging  on 
the  Common,  I  engaged  in  two  or  three  little 
ventures  of  a  semi-professional  character, 
such  as  an  exhibition  of  laughing-gas,  ad 
vertising  to  cure  cancer,  — "Send  twenty-five 
stamps  by  mail  to  J.  B.,  and  receive  an  infal 
lible  receipt,"— etc.  I  did  not  find,  however, 
that  these  little  enterprises  prospered  well  in 
New  England,  and  I  had  recalled  very  for 
cibly  a  story  which  my  father  was  fond  of 
relating  to  me  in  my  boyhood.  It  was  about 
how  certain  very  knowing  flies  went  to  get 
molasses,  and  how  it  ended  by  the  molasses 
getting  them.  This,  indeed,  was  precisely 
what  happened  to  me  in  all  my  efforts  to 
better  myself  in  the  Northern  States,  until 
at  length  my  misfortunes  climaxed  in  total 
and  unexpected  ruin. 

Having  been  very  economical,  I  had  now 
about  twenty-seven  hundred  dollars.  It  was 
none  too  much.  At  this  time  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  sea-captain  from  Maine. 
He  told  me  that  he  and  two  others  had  char 
tered  a  smart  little  steamer  to  run  to  Jamaica 
with  a  variety  cargo.  In  fact,  he  meant  to 
run  into  Wilmington  or  Charleston,  and  he 


102  THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

was  to  carry  quinine,  chloroform,  and  other 
medical  requirements  for  the  Confederates.' 
He  needed  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  more, 
and  a  doctor  to  buy  the  kind  of  things  which 
army  surgeons  require.  Of  course  I  was 
prudent  and  he  careful,  but  at  last,  on  his 
proving  to  me  that  there  was  no  risk,  I 
agreed  to  expend  his  money,  his  friends', 
and  my  own  up  to  twenty-live  hundred  dol 
lars.  I  saw  the  other  men,  one  of  them  a 
rebel  captain.  I  was  well  pleased  with  the 
venture,  and  resolved  for  obvious  reasons  to 
go  with  them  on  the  steamer.  It  was  a 
promising  investment,  and  I  am  free  to  re 
flect  that  in  this,  as  in  some  other  things,  I 
have  been  free  from  vulgar  prejudices.  I 
bought  all  that  we  needed,  and  was  well  sat 
isfied  when  it  was  cleverly  stowed  away  in 
the  hold. 

We  were  to  sail  on  a  certain  Thursday 
morning  in  September,  1863.  I  sent  my 
trunk  to  the  vessel,  and  went  down  the  even 
ing  before  we  were  to  start  to  go  on  board, 
but  found  that  the  little  steamer  had  been 
hauled  out  from  the  pier.  The  captain,  who 
met  me  at  this  time,  endeavored  to  get  a 
boat  to  ferry  us  to  the  ship ;  but  a  gale  was 
blowing,  and  he  advised  me  to  wait  until 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK  103 

morning.  My  associates  were  already  on 
board.  Early  next  day  I  dressed  and  went 
to  the  captain's  room,  which  proved  to  be 
empty.  I  was  instantly  filled  with  doubt, 
and  ran  frantically  to  the  Long  Wharf, 
where,  to  my  horror,  I  could  see  no  signs 
of  the  vessel  or  captain.  Neither  have  I 
ever  set  eyes  on  them  from  that  time  to  this. 
I  thought  of  lodging  information  with  the 
police  as  to  the  unpatriotic  design  of  the  ras 
cal  who  swindled  me,  but  on  the  whole  con 
cluded  that  it  was  best  to  hold  my  tongue. 

It  was,  as  I  perceived,  such  utterly  spilt 
milk  as  to  be  little  worth  lamenting,  and  I 
therefore  set  to  work,  with  my  accustomed 
energy,  to  utilize  on  my  own  behalf  the  re 
sources  of  my  medical  education,  which  so 
often  before  had  saved  me  from  want.  The 
war,  then  raging  at  its  height,  appeared  to 
offer  numerous  opportunities  to  men  of  talent. 
The  path  which  I  chose  was  apparently  a 
humble  one,  but  it  enabled  me  to  make  very 
practical  use  of  my  professional  knowledge, 
and  afforded  for  a  time  rapid  and  secure  re 
turns,  without  any  other  investment  than  a 
little  knowledge  cautiously  employed.  In  the 
first  place,  I  deposited  my  small  remnant  of 
property  in  a  safe  bank.  Then  I  went  to 


104  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

Providence,  where,  as  I  had  heard,  patriotic 
persons  were  giving  very  large  bounties  in 
order,  I  suppose,  to  insure  the  government 
the  services  of  better  men  than  themselves. 
On  my  arrival  I  lost  no  time  in  offering  my 
self  as  a  substitute,  and  was  readily  accepted, 
and  very  soon  mustered  into  the  Twentieth 
Rhode  Island.  Three  months  were  passed 
in  camp,  during  which  period  I  received 
bounty  to  the  extent  of  six  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  with  which  I  tranquilly  de 
serted  about  two  hours  before  the  regiment 
left  for  the  field.  With  the  product  of  my 
industry  I  returned  to  Boston,  and  deposited 
all  but  enough  to  carry  me  to  New  York, 
where  within  a  month  I  enlisted  twice,  earn 
ing  on  each  occasion  four  hundred  dollars. 

After  this  I  thought  it  wise  to  try  the  same 
game  in  some  of  the  smaller  towns  near  to 
Philadelphia.  I  approached  my  birthplace 
with  a  good  deal  of  doubt ;  but  I  selected  a 
regiment  in  camp  at  Norristown,  which  is 
eighteen  miles  away.  Here  I  got  nearly 
seven  hundred  dollars  by  entering  the  ser 
vice  as  a  substitute  for  an  editor,  whose  pen, 
I  presume,  was  mightier  than  his  sword.  I 
was,  however,  disagreeably  surprised  by  being 
hastily  forwarded  to  the  front  under  a  foxy 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK  105 

young  lieutenant,  who  brutally  shot  down  a 
poor  devil  in  the  streets  of  Baltimore  for  at 
tempting  to  desert.  At  this  point  I  began 
to  make  use  of  my  medical  skill,  for  I  did 
not  in  the  least  degree  fancy  being  shot, 
either  because  of  deserting  or  of  not  desert 
ing.  It  happened,  therefore,  that  a  day  or 
two  later,  while  in  Washington,  I  was  seized 
in  the  street  with  a  fit,  which  perfectly  im 
posed  upon  the  officer  in  charge,  and  caused 
him  to  leave  me  at  the  Douglas  Hospital. 
Here  I  found  it  necessary  to  perform  fits 
about  twice  a  week,  and  as  there  were  sev 
eral  real  epileptics  in  the  ward,  I  had  a 
capital  chance  of  studying  their  symptoms, 
which,  finally,  I  learned  to  imitate  with  the 
utmost  cleverness. 

I  soon  got  to  know  three  or  four  men  who, 
like  myself,  were  personally  averse  to  bullets, 
and  who  were  simulating  other  forms  of 
disease  with  more  or  less  success.  One  of 
them  suffered  with  rheumatism  of  the  back, 
and  walked  about  like  an  old  man ;  another, 
who  had  been  to  the  front,  was  palsied  in  the 
right  arm.  A  third  kept  open  an  ulcer  011 
the  leg,  rubbing  in  a  little  antimomal  oint 
ment,  which  I  bought  at  fifty  cents,  and  sold 
him  at  five  dollars  a  box. 


106  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF  A  QUACK 

A  change  in  the  hospital  staff  brought  all 
of  us  to  grief.  The  new  surgeon  was  a  quiet, 
gentlemanly  person,  with  pleasant  blue  eyes 
and  clearly  cut  features,  and  a  way  of  look 
ing  at  you  without  saying  much.  I  felt  so 
safe  myself  that  I  watched  his  procedures 
with  just  that  kind  of  enjoyment  which  one 
clever  man  takes  in  seeing  another  at  work. 

The  first  inspection  settled  two  of  us. 

"Another  back  case,"  said  the  assistant 
surgeon  to  his  senior. 

"  Back  hurt  you  ? "  says  the  latter,  mildly. 

"Yes,  sir;  run  over  by  a  howitzer;  ain't 
never  been  able  to  stand  straight  since." 

"A  howitzer!"  says  the  surgeon.  "Lean 
forward,  my  man,  so  as  to  touch  the  floor- 
so.  That  will  do."  Then  turning  to  his  aid, 
he  said,  "Prepare  this  man's  discharge 
papers." 

"His  discharge,  sir?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  said  that.     Who  's  next  ? " 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  groaned  the  man  with 
the  back.  "How  soon,  sir,  do  you  think  it 
will  be?" 

"Ah,  not  less  than  a  month,"  replied  the 
surgeon,  and  passed  on. 

Now,  as  it  was  unpleasant  to  be  bent  like 
the  letter  C,  and  as  the  patient  presumed  that 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF   A  QUACK  107 

his  discharge  was  secure,  he  naturally  allowed 
himself  a  little  relaxation  in  the  way  of  be 
coming  straighter.  Unluckily,  those  nice 
blue  eyes  were  everywhere  at  all  hours,  and 
one  fine  morning  Smithson  was  appalled  at 
finding  himself  in  a  detachment  bound  for 
the  field,  and  bearing  on  his  descriptive  list 
an  ill-natured  indorsement  about  his  malady. 

The  surgeon  came  next  on  O'Callahan, 
standing,  like  each  of  us,  at  the  foot  of  his 
own  bed. 

11 1  've  paralytics  in  my  arm,"  he  said,  with 
intention  to  explain  his  failure  to  salute  his 
superior. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  surgeon ;  "  you  have 
another  hand." 

"  An'  it 's  not  the  rigulation  to  saloot  with 
yer  left,"  said  the  Irishman,  with  a  grin,  while 
the  patients  around  us  began  to  smile. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ? "  said  the  surgeon. 

11 1  was  shot  in  the  shoulder,"  answered  the 
patient,  "about  three  months  ago,  sir.  I 
have  n't  stirred  it  since." 

The  surgeon  looked  at  the  scar. 

"So  recently?"  said  he.  "The  scar  looks 
older;  and,  by  the  way,  doctor,"— to  his  jun 
ior, —  "it  could  not  have  gone  near  the 
nerves.  Bring  the  battery,  orderly." 


108  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  QUACK 

In  a  few  moments  the  surgeon  was  testing 
one  after  another,  the  various  muscles.  At 
last  he  stopped.  "  Send  this  man  away  with 
the  next  detachment.  Not  a  word,  my  man. 
You  are  a  rascal,  and  a  disgrace  to  honest 
men  who  have  been  among  bullets." 

The  man  muttered  something,  I  did  not 
hear  what. 

"Put  this  man  in  the  guard-house,"  cried 
the  surgeon,  and  so  passed  on  without  smile 
or  frown. 

As  to  the  ulcer  case,  to  my  amusement  he 
was  put  in  bed,  and  his  leg  locked  up  in  a 
wooden  splint,  which  effectually  prevented 
him  from  touching  the  part  diseased.  It 
healed  in  ten  days,  and  he  too  went  as  food 
for  powder. 

The  surgeon  asked  me  a  few  questions,  and 
requesting  to  be  sent  for  during  my  next  fit, 
left  me  alone. 

I  was,  of  course,  on  my  guard,  and  took 
care  to  have  my  attacks  only  during  his  ab 
sence,  or  to  have  them  over  before  he  arrived. 
At  length,  one  morning,  in  spite  of  my  care, 
he  chanced  to  enter  the  ward  as  I  fell  on  the 
floor.  I  was  laid  on  the  bed,  apparently  in 
strong  convulsions.  Presently  I  felt  a  finger 
on  my  eyelid,  and  as  it  was  raised,  saw  the 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK  109 

surgeon  standing  beside  me.  To  escape  his 
scrutiny  I  became  more  violent  in  my  mo 
tions.  He  stopped  a  moment  and  looked  at 
me  steadily.  "  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  he,  to  my 
great  relief,  as  I  felt  at  once  that  I  had  suc 
cessfully  deceived  him.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  ward  doctor  and  remarked :  "  Take  care 
he  does  not  hurt  his  head  against  the  bed; 
and,  by  the  by,  doctor,  do  you  remember  the 
test  we  applied  in  Carstairs's  case  ?  Just  tickle 
the  soles  of  his  feet  and  see  if  it  will  cause 
those  backward  spasms  of  the  head." 

The  aid  obeyed  him,  and,  very  naturally, 
I  jerked  my  head  backward  as  hard  as  I 
could. 

"That  will  answer,"  said  the  surgeon,  to 
my  horror.  "A  clever  rogue.  Send  him  to 
the  guard-house." 

Happy  had  I  been  had  my  ill  luck  ended 
here,  but  as  I  crossed  the  yard  an  officer 
stopped  me.  To  my  disgust,  it  was  the  cap 
tain  of  my  old  Rhode  Island  company. 

"Hello  !  "  said  he;  "keep  that  fellow  safe. 
I  know  him." 

To  cut  short  a  long  story,  I  was  tried,  con 
victed,  and  forced  to  refund  the  Rhode  Island 
bounty,  for  by  ill  luck  they  found  my  bank 
book  among  my  papers.  I  was  finally  sent 


110   THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  QUACK 

to  Fort  Delaware  and  kept  at  hard  labor, 
handling  and  carrying  shot,  policing  the 
ground,  picking  up  cigar-stumps,  and  other 
light,  unpleasant  occupations. 

When  the  war  was  over  I  was  released.  I 
went  at  once  to  Boston,  where  I  had  about 
four  hundred  dollars  in  bank.  I  spent  nearly 
all  of  this  sum  before  I  could  satisfy  the  ac 
cumulated  cravings  of  a  year  and  a  half  with 
out  drink  or  tobacco,  or  a  decent  meal.  I 
was  about  to  engage  in  a  little  business  as  a 
vender  of  lottery  policies  when  I  first  began 
to  feel  a  strange  sense  of  lassitude,  which 
soon  increased  so  as  quite  to  disable  me  from 
work  of  any  kind.  Month  after  month  passed 
away,  while  my  money  lessened,  and  this 
terrible  sense  of  weariness  went  on  from 
bad  to  worse.  At  last  one  day,  after  nearly 
a  year  had  elapsed,  I  perceived  on  my  face  a 
large  brown  patch  of  color,  in  consequence 
of  which  I  went  in  some  alarm  to  consult  a 
well-known  physician.  He  asked  me  a  multi 
tude  of  tiresome  questions,  and  at  last  wrote 
off  a  prescription,  which  I  immediately  read. 
It  was  a  preparation  of  arsenic. 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  is  the  matter 
with  me,  doctor  ?  " 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  a 


THE  AUTOBIOGEAPHY  OF  A  QUACK     111 

very  serious  trouble— what  we  call  Addison's 
disease." 

"What's  that?  "said  I. 

"I  do  not  think  you  would  comprehend 
it,"  he  replied;  "it  is  an  affection  of  the 
suprarenal  capsules." 

I  dimly  remembered  that  there  were  such 
organs,  and  that  nobody  knew  what  they 
were  meant  for.  It  seemed  that  doctors  had 
found  a  use  for  them  at  last. 

"  Is  it  a  dangerous  disease  ? "  I  said. 

"  I  fear  so,"  he  answered. 

"  Don't  you  really  know,"  I  asked,  "  what 's 
the  truth  about  it  ? " 

"Well,"  he  returned  gravely,  "I  'm  sorry 
to  tell  you  it  is  a  very  dangerous  malady." 

"Nonsense !  "  said  I;  "I  don't  believe  it"; 
for  I  thought  it  was  only  a  doctor's  trick,  and 
one  I  had  tried  often  enough  myself. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he ;  "  you  are  a  very  ill 
man,  and  a  fool  besides.  Good  morning." 
He  forgot  to  ask  for  a  fee,  and  I  did  not 
therefore  find  it  necessary  to  escape  payment 
by  telling  him  I  was  a  doctor. 

Several  weeks  went  by;  my  money  was 
gone,  my  clothes  were  ragged,  and,  like  my 
body,  nearly  worn  out,  and  now  I  am  an 
inmate  of  a  hospital.  To-day  I  feel  weaker 

7 


112    THE  AUTOBIOGKAPHY  OF  A   QUACK 

than  when  I  first  began  to  write.  How  it 
will  end,  I  do  not  know.  If  I  die,  the  doctor 
will  get  this  pleasant  history,  and  if  I  live,  I 
shall  burn  it,  and  as  soon  as  I  get  a  little 
money  I  will  set  out  to  look  for  my  sister. 
I  dreamed  about  her  last  night.  What  I 
dreamed  was  not  very  agreeable.  I  thought 
it  was  night.  I  was  walking  up  one  of  the 
vilest  streets  near  my  old  office,  and  a  girl 
spoke  to  me — a  shameless,  worn  creature, 
with  great  sad  eyes.  Suddenly  she  screamed, 
"  Brother,  brother !  "  and  then  remembering 
what  she  had  been,  with  her  round,  girlish, 
innocent  face  and  fair  hair,  and  seeing  what 
she  was  now,  I  awoke  and  saw  the  dim  light 
of  the  half -darkened  ward. 

I  am  better  to-day.  Writing  all  this  stuff 
has  amused  me  and,  I  think,  done  me  good. 
That  was  a  horrid  dream  I  had.  I  suppose  I 
must  tear  up  all  this  biography. 

"  HeUo,  nurse  !     The  little  boy— boy— " 

"  GOOD  HEAVENS  ! "  said  the  nurse,  "  he  is 
dead !  Dr.  Alston  said  it  would  happen  this 
way.  The  screen,  quick— the  screen— and 
let  the  doctor  know." 


THE   CASE  OF 
GEORGE   DEDLOW 


THE  CASE   OF 
GEORGE  DEDLOW 


JHE  following  notes  of  my  own 
case  have  been  declined  on  vari 
ous  pretexts  by  every  medical 
journal  to  which  I  have  offered 
them.  There  was,  perhaps^ 
some  reason  in  this,  because  many  of  the 
medical  facts  which  they  record  are  not  al 
together  new,  and  because  the  psychical  de 
ductions  to  which  they  have  led  me  are  not 
in  themselves  of  medical  interest.  I  ought 
to  add  that  a  great  deal  of  what  is  here  re 
lated  is  not  of  any  scientific  value  whatso 
ever;  but  as  one  or  two  people  on  whose 
judgment  I  rely  have  advised  me  to  print 
my  narrative  with  all  the  personal  details, 
rather  than  in  the  dry  shape  in  which,  as  a 
psychological  statement,  I  shall  publish  it 
elsewhere,  I  have  yielded  to  their  views.  I 
115 


116      THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

suspect,  however,  that  the  very  character  of 
my  record  will,  in  the  eyes  of  some  of  my 
readers,  tend  to  lessen  the  value  of  the  meta 
physical  discoveries  which  it  sets  forth. 

I  AM  the  son  of  a  physician,  still  in  large 
practice,  in  the  village  of  Abington,  Scofield 
County,  Indiana.  Expecting  to  act  as  his 
future  partner,  I  studied  medicine  in  his 
office,  and  in  1859  and  1860  attended  lectures 
at  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  in  Philadel 
phia.  My  second  course  should  have  been  in 
the  following  year,  but  the  outbreak  of  the 
Rebellion  so  crippled  my  father's  means  that 
I  was  forced  to  abandon  my  intention.  The 
demand  for  army  surgeons  at  this  time  be 
came  very  great ;  and  although  not  a  gradu 
ate,  I  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  place 
of  assistant  surgeon  to  the  Tenth  Indiana 
Volunteers.  In  the  subsequent  Western 
campaigns  this  organization  suffered  so  se 
verely  that  before  the  term  of  its  service 
was  over  it  was  merged  in  the  Twenty-first  In 
diana  Volunteers ;  and  I,  as  an  extra  surgeon, 
ranked  by  the  medical  officers  of  the  latter 
regiment,  was  transferred  to  the  Fifteenth 
Indiana  Cavalry.  Like  many  physicians,  I 
had  contracted  a  strong  taste  for  army  life, 


THE  CASE  OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW      117 

and,  disliking  cavalry  service,  sought  and 
obtained  the  position  of  first  lieutenant  in 
the  Seventy-ninth  Indiana  Volunteers,  an 
infantry  regiment  of  excellent  character. 

On  the  day  after  I  assumed  command  of 
my  company,  which  had  no  captain,  we  were 
sent  to  garrison  a  part  of  a  line  of  block 
houses  stretching  along  the  Cumberland 
River  below  Nashville,  then  occupied  by  a 
portion  of  the  command  of  General  Rose- 
crans. 

The  life  we  led  while  on  this  duty  was 
tedious  and  at  the  same  time  dangerous  in 
the  extreme.  Food  was  scarce  and  bad,  the 
water  horrible,  and  we  had  no  cavalry  to 
forage  for  us.  If,  as  infantry,  we  attempted 
to  levy  supplies  upon  the  scattered  farms 
around  us,  the  population  seemed  suddenly 
to  double,  and  in  the  shape  of  guerrillas 
"potted"  us  industriously  from  behind  dis 
tant  trees,  rocks,  or  fences.  Under  these 
various  and  unpleasant  influences,  combined 
with  a  fair  infusion  of  malaria,  our  men  rap 
idly  lost  health  and  spirits.  Unfortunately, 
no  proper  medical  supplies  had  been  for 
warded  with  our  small  force  (two  com 
panies),  and,  as  the  fall  advanced,  the  want 
of  quinine  and  stimulants  became  a  serious 


118      THE  CASE   OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW 

aunoyance.  Moreover,  our  rations  were  run 
ning  low;  we  had  been  three  weeks  without 
a  new  supply;  and  our  commanding  officer, 
Major  Henry  L.  Terrill,  began  to  be  uneasy  as 
to  the.saf  ety  of  his  men.  About  this  time  it  was 
supposed  that  a  train  with  rations  would  be 
due  from  the  post  twenty  miles  to  the  north 
of  us ;  yet  it  was  quite  possible  that  it  would 
bring  us  food,  but  no  medicines,  which  were 
what  we  most  needed.  The  command  was 
too  small  to  detach  any  part  of  it,  and  the 
major  therefore  resolved  to  send  an  officer 
alone  to  the  post  above  us,  where  the  rest  of 
the  Seventy-ninth  lay,  and  whence  they  could 
easily  forward  quinine  and  stimulants  by  the 
train,  if  it  had  not  left,  or,  if  it  had,  by  a 
small  cavalry  escort. 

It  so  happened,  to  my  cost,  as  it  turned 
out,  that  I  was  the  only  officer  fit  to  make 
the  journey,  and  I  was  accordingly  ordered 
to  proceed  to  Blockhouse  No.  3  and  make 
the  required  arrangements.  I  started  alone 
just  after  dusk  the  next  night,  and  during 
the  darkness  succeeded  in  getting  within 
three  miles  of  my  destination.  At  this  time 
I  found  that  I  had  lost  my  way,  and,  although 
aware  of  the  danger  of  my  act,  was  forced  to 
turn  aside  and  ask  at  a  log  cabin  for  direc- 


THE  CASE  OF  GEOEGE  DEDLOW   119 

tions.  The  house  contained  a  dried-up  old 
woman  and  four  white-headed,  half-naked 
children.  The  woman  was  either  stone-deaf 
or  pretended  to  be  so  ;  but,  at  all  events,  she 
gave  me  no  satisfaction,  and  I  remounted 
and  rode  awa}r.  On  coming  to  the  end  of  a 
lane,  into  which  I  had  turned  to  seek  the 
cabin,  I  found  to  my  surprise  that  the  bars 
had  been  put  up  during  my  brief  parley. 
They  were  too  high  to  leap,  and  I  therefore 
dismounted  to  pull  them  down.  As  I  touched 
the  top  rail,  I  heard  a  rifle,  and  at  the  same 
instant  felt  a  blow  on  both  arms,  which  fell 
helpless.  I  staggered  to  my  horse  and  tried 
to  mount;  but,  as  I  could  use  neither  arm, 
the  effort  was  vain,  and  I  therefore  stood  still, 
awaiting  my  fate.  I  am  only  conscious  that 
I  saw  about  me  several  graybacks,  for  I  must 
have  fallen  fainting  almost  immediately. 

When  I  awoke  I  was  lying  in  the  cabin 
near  by,  upon  a  pile  of  rubbish.  Ten  or 
twelve  guerrillas  were  gathered  about  the  fire, 
apparently  drawing  lots  for  my  watch,  boots, 
hat,  etc.  I  now  made  an  effort  to  find  out 
how  far  I  was  hurt.  I  discovered  that  I 
could  use  the  left  forearm  and  hand  pretty 
well,  and  with  this  hand  I  felt  the  right  limb 
all  over  until  I  touched  the  wound.  The  ball 


120      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

had  passed  from  left  to  right  through  the  left 
biceps,  and  directly  through  the  right  arm 
just  below  the  shoulder,  emerging  behind. 
The  right  arm  and  forearm  were  cold  and 
perfectly  insensible.  I  pinched  them  as  well 
as  I  could,  to  test  the  amount  of  sensation 
remaining ;  but  the  hand  might  as  well  have 
been  that  of  a  dead  man.  I  began  to  under 
stand  that  the  nerves  had  been  wounded,  and 
that  the  part  was  utterly  powerless.  By  this 
time  my  friends  had  pretty  well  divided  the 
spoils,  and,  rising  together,  went  out.  The 
old  woman  then  came  to  me,  and  said : 
"  Reckon  you  'd  best  git  up.  They-'uns  is 
a-goin'  to  take  you  away."  To  this  I  only 
answered,  u  Water,  water."  I  had  a  grim 
sense  of  amusement  on  finding  that  the  old 
woman  was  not  deaf,  for  she  went  out,  and 
presently  came  back  with  a  gourdful,  which 
I  eagerly  drank.  An  hour  later  the  gray- 
backs  returned,  and  finding  that  I  was  too 
weak  to  walk,  carried  me  out  and  laid  me  on 
the  bottom  of  a  common  cart,  with  which 
they  set  off  on  a  trot.  The  jolting  was  hor 
rible,  but  within  an  hour  I  began  to  have  in 
my  dead  right  hand  a  strange  burning,  which 
was  rather  a  relief  to  me.  It  increased  as  the 
sun  rose  and  the  day  grew  warm,  until  I  felt 


THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW     121 

as  if  the  hand  was  caught  and  pinched  in  a 
red-hot  vise.  Then  in  my  agony  I  begged 
my  guard  for  water  to  wet  it  with,  but  for 
some  reason  they  desired  silence,  and  at  every 
noise  threatened  me  with  a  revolver.  At 
length  the  pain  became  absolutely  unendur 
able,  and  I  grew  what  it  is  the  fashion  to  call 
demoralized.  I  screamed,  cried,  and  yelled 
in  my  torture,  until,  as  I  suppose,  my  captors 
became  alarmed,  and,  stopping,  gave  me  a 
handkerchief,— my  own,  I  fancy,— and  a  can 
teen  of  water,  with  which  I  wetted  the  hand, 
to  my  unspeakable  relief. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  events  by 
which,  finally,  I  found  myself  in  one  of  the 
rebel  hospitals  near  Atlanta.  Here,  for  the 
first  time,  my  wounds  were  properly  cleansed 
and  dressed  by  a  Dr.  Oliver  T.  Wilson,  who 
treated  me  throughout  with  great  kindness. 
I  told  him  I  had  been  a  doctor,  which,  per 
haps,  may  have  been  in  part  the  cause  of  the 
unusual  tenderness  with  which  I  was  man 
aged.  The  left  arm  was  now  quite  easy, 
although,  as  will  be  seen,  it  never  entirely 
healed.  The  right  arm  was  worse  than  ever 
—the  humerus  broken,  the  nerves  wounded, 
and  the  hand  alive  only  to  pain.  I  use  this 
phrase  because  it  is  connected  in  my  mind 


with  a  visit  from  a  local  visitor,— I  am  not 
sure  he  was  a  preacher,— who  used  to  go 
daily  through  the  wards,  and  talk  to  us  or 
write  our  letters.  One  morning  he  stopped 
at  my  bed,  when  this  little  talk  occurred : 

"How  are  you,  lieutenant?" 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  as  usual.  All  right,  but  this 
hand,  which  is  dead  except  to  pain." 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "such  and  thus  will  the 
wicked  be— such  will  you  be  if  you  die  in 
your  sins :  you  will  go  where  only  pain  can 
be  felt.  For  all  eternity,  all  of  you  will  be 
just  like  that  hand — knowing  pain  only." 

I  suppose  I  was  very  weak,  but  somehow  I 
felt  a  sudden  and  chilling  horror  of  possible 
universal  pain,  and  suddenly  fainted.  When 
I  awoke  the  hand  was  worse,  if  that  could  be. 
It  was  red,  shining,  aching,  burning,  and,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  perpetually  rasped  with  hot 
files.  When  the  doctor  came  I  begged  for 
morphia.  He  said  gravely:  "We  have  none. 
You  know  you  don't  allow  it  to  pass  the 
lines."  It  was  sadly  true. 

I  turned  to  the  wall,  and  wetted  the  hand 
again,  my  sole  relief.  In  about  an  hour  Dr. 
Wilson  came  back  with  two  aids,  and  ex 
plained  to  me  that  the  bone  was  so  crushed 
as  to  make  it  hopeless  to  save  it,  and  that, 


THE  CASE  OF  GEOEGE  DEDLOW   123 

besides,  amputation  offered  some  chance  of 
arresting  the  pain.  I  had  thought  of  this 
before,  but  the  anguish  I  felt — I  cannot  say 
endured — was  so  awful  that  I  made  no  more 
of  losing  the  limb  than  of  parting  with  a 
tooth  on  account  of  toothache.  Accordingly, 
brief  preparations  were  made,  which  I 
watched  with  a  sort  of  eagerness  such  as 
must  forever  be  inexplicable  to  any  one  who 
has  not  passed  six  weeks  of  torture  like  that 
which  I  had  suffered. 

I  had  but  one  pang  before  the  operation. 
As  I  arranged  myself  on  the  left  side,  so  as 
to  make  it  convenient  for  the  operator  to  use 
the  knife,  I  asked:  "Who  is  to  give  me  the 
ether?"  "We  have  none,"  said  the  person 
questioned.  I  set  my  teeth,  and  said  no 
more. 

I  need  not  describe  the  operation.  The 
pain  felt  was  severe,  but  it  was  insignificant 
as  compared  with  that  of  any  other  minute  of 
the  past  six  weeks.  The  limb  was  removed 
very  near  to  the  shoulder- joint  As  the  sec 
ond  incision  was  made,  I  felt  a  strange  flash 
of  pain  play  through  the  limb,  as  if  it  were 
in  every  minutest  fibril  of  nerve.  This  was 
followed  by  instant,  unspeakable  relief,  and 
before  the  flaps  were  brought  together  I  was 


124      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

sound  asleep.  I  dimly  remember  saying,  as 
I  pointed  to  the  arm  which  lay  on  the  floor : 
"  There  is  the  pain,  and  here  am  I.  How 
queer ! "  Then  I  slept— slept  the  sleep  of 
the  just,  or,  better,  of  the  painless.  From 
this  time  forward  I  was  free  from  neuralgia. 
At  a  subsequent  period  I  saw  a  number  of 
cases  similar  to  mine  in  a  hospital  in  Phila 
delphia. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  detail  my  weary 
months  of  monotonous  prison  life  in  the 
South.  In  the  early  part  of  April,  1863,  I 
was  exchanged,  and  after  the  usual  thirty  days' 
furlough  returned  to  my  regiment  a  captain. 

On  the  19th  of  September,  1863,  occurred 
the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  in  which  my  regi 
ment  took  a  conspicuous  p*art.  The  close  of 
our  own  share  in  this  contest  is,  as  it  were, 
burned  into  my  memory  with  every  least  de 
tail.  It  was  about  6  P.  M.,  when  we  found  our 
selves  in  line,  under  cover  of  a  long,  thin 
row  of  scrubby  trees,  beyond  which  lay  a 
gentle  slope,  from  which,  again,  rose  a  hill 
rather  more  abrupt,  and  crowned  with  an 
earthwork.  We  received  orders  to  cross  this 
space  and  take  the  fort  in  front,  while  a 
brigade  on  our  right  was  to  make  a  like 
movement  on  its  flank. 


THE  CASE  OF   GEOEGE   DEDLOW      125 

Just  before  we  emerged  into  the  open 
ground,  we  noticed  what,  I  think,  was  com 
mon  in  many  fights — that  the  enemy  had 
begun  to  bowl  round  shot  at  us,  probably 
from  failure  of  shell.  We  passed  across  the 
valley  in  good  order,  although  the  men  fell 
rapidly  all  along  the  line.  As  we  climbed 
the  hill,  our  pace  slackened,  and  the  fire  grew 
heavier.  At  this  moment  a  battery  opened 
on  our  left,  the  shots  crossing  our  heads 
obliquely.  It  is  this  moment  which  is  so 
printed  on  my  recollection.  I  can  see  now, 
as  if  through  a  window,  the  gray  smoke,  lit 
with  red  flashes,  the  long,  wavering  line, 
the  sky  blue  above,  the  trodden  furrows, 
blotted  with  blue  blouses.  Then  it  was  as  if 
the  window  closed,  and  I  knew  and  saw  no 
more.  No  other  scene  in  my  life  is  thus 
scarred,  if  I  may  say  so,  into  my  memory.  I 
have  a  fancy  that  the  horrible  shock  which 
suddenly  fell  upon  me  must  have  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  thus  intensifying  the  mo 
mentary  image  then  before  my  eyes. 

When  I  awakened,  I  was  lying  under  a  tree 
somewhere  at  the  rear.  The  ground  was 
covered  with  wounded,  and  the  doctors  were 
busy  at  an  operating-table,  improvised  from 
two  barrels  and  a  plank.  At  length  two  of 


126      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

them  who  were  examining  the  wounded 
about  me  came  up  to  where  I  lay.  A  hos 
pital  steward  raised  my  head  and  poured 
down  some  brandy  and  water,  while  another 
cut  loose  my  pantaloons.  The  doctors  ex 
changed  looks  and  walked  away.  I  asked 
the  steward  where  I  was  hit. 

"  Both  thighs,"  said  he ;  "  the  doctors  won't 
do  nothing." 

"No  use?"  said  I. 

"  Not  much,"  said  he. 

"  Not  much  means  none  at  all,"  I  answered. 

When  he  had  gone  I  set  myself  to  thinking 
about  a  good  many  things  I  had  better  have 
thought  of  before,  but  which  in  no  way  con 
cern  the  history  of  my  case.  A  half-hour 
went  by.  I  had  no  pain,  and  did  not  get 
weaker.  At  last,  I  cannot  explain  why,  I 
began  to  look  about  me.  At  first  things 
appeared  a  little  hazy.  I  remember  one 
thing  which  thrilled  me  a  little,  even  then. 

A  tall,  blond-bearded  major  walked  up  to 
a  doctor  near  me,  saying,  "When  you  've  a 
little  leisure,  just  take  a  look  at  my  side." 

"  Do  it  now,"  said  the  doctor. 

The  officer  exposed  his  wound.  "Ball 
went  in  here,  and  out  there." 

The  doctor  looked  up  at  him— half  pity, 


THE   CASE  OF   GEOKGE   DEDLOW      127 

half  amazement.  "  If  you  7ve  got  any  mes 
sage,  you  'd  best  send  it  by  me." 

"  Why,  you  don't  say  it  7s  serious  ? "  was  the 
reply. 

"  Serious  !  Why,  you  7re  shot  through  the 
stomach.  You  won't  live  over  the  day." 

Then  the  man  did  what  struck  me  as  a 
very  odd  thing.  He  said,  "  Anybody  got  a 
pipe  ? "  Some  one  gave  him  a  pipe.  He  filled 
it  deliberately,  struck  a  light  with  a  flint,  and 
sat  down  against  a  tree  near  to  me.  Pres 
ently  the  doctor  came  to  him  again,  and 
asked  him  what  he  could  do  for  him. 

"  Send  me  a  drink  of  Bourbon." 

"  Anything  else  ? " 

"  No." 

As  the  doctor  left  him,  he  called  him  back. 
" It 's  a  little  rough,  doc,  is  n't  it?" 

No  more  passed,  and  I  saw  this  man  no 
longer.  Another  set  of  doctors  were  han 
dling  my  legs,  for  the  first  time  causing  pain. 
A  moment  after  a  steward  put  a  towel  over 
my  mouth,  and  I  smelled  the  familiar  odor  of 
chloroform,  which  I  was  glad  enough  to 
breathe.  In  a  moment  the  trees  began  to 
move  around  from  left  to  right,  faster  and 
faster ;  then  a  universal  grayness  came  be 
fore  me,  and  I  recall  nothing  further  until 


128      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

I  awoke  to  consciousness  in  a  hospital-tent. 
I  got  hold  of  my  own  identity  in  a  moment 
or  two,  and  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  sharp 
cramp  in  my  left  leg.  I  tried  to  get  at  it  to 
rub  it  with  my  single  arm,  but,  finding  my 
self  too  weak,  hailed  an  attendant.  "Just 
rub  my  left  calf,"  said  I,  "  if  you  please." 

"Calf?"  said  he.  "You  ain't  none.  It  7s 
took  off." 

"  I  know  better,"  said  I.  "  I  have  pain  in 
both  legs." 

"  Wall,  I  never !  "  said  he.  "  You  ain't 
got  nary  leg." 

As  I  did  not  believe  him,  he  threw  off  the 
covers,  and,  to  my  horror,  showed  me  that  I 
had  suffered  amputation  of  both  thighs,  very 
high  up. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  I,  faintly. 

A  month  later,  to  the  amazement  of  every 
one,  I  was  so  well  as  to  be  moved  from  the 
crowded  hospital  at  Chattanooga  to  Nash 
ville,  where  I  filled  one  of  the  ten  thousand 
beds  of  that  vast  metropolis  of  hospitals.  Of 
the  sufferings  which  then  began  I  shall  pres 
ently  speak.  It  will  be  best  just  now  to  de 
tail  the  final  misfortune  which  here  fell  upon 
me.  Hospital  No.  2,  in  which  I  lay.  was  in 
conveniently  crowded  with  severely  wounded 


THE  CASE  OF  GEOEGE  DEDLOW   129 

officers.  After  my  third  week  an  epidemic 
of  hospital  gangrene  broke  out  in  my  ward. 
In  three  days  it  attacked  twenty  persons. 
Then  an  inspector  came,  and  we  were  trans 
ferred  at  once  to  the  open  air,  and  placed  in 
tents.  Strangely  enough,  the  wound  in  my 
remaining  arm,  which  still  suppurated,  was 
seized  with  gangrene.  The  usual  remedy, 
bromine,  was  used  locally,  but  the  main 
artery  opened,  was  tied,  bled  again  and 
again,  and  at  last,  as  a  final  resort,  the  re 
maining  arm  was  amputated  at  the  shoulder- 
joint.  Against  all  chances  I  recovered,  to 
find  myself  a  useless  torso,  more  like  some 
strange  larval  creature  than  anything  of 
human  shape.  Of  my  anguish  and  horror 
of  myself  I  dare  not  speak.  I  have  dictated 
these  pages,  not  to  shock  my  readers,  but  to 
possess  them  with  facts  in  regard  to  the  rela 
tion  of  the  mind  to  the  body ;  and  I  hasten, 
therefore,  to  such  portions  of  my  case  as  best 
illustrate  these  views. 

In  January,  1864, 1  was  forwarded  to  Phila 
delphia,  in  order  to  enter  what  was  known 
as  the  Stump  Hospital,  South  street,  then  in 
charge  of  Dr.  Hopkinson.  This  favor  was 
obtained  through  the  influence  of  my  father's 
friend,  the  late  Governor  Anderson,  who  has 


130      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

always  manifested  an  interest  in  my  case,  for 
which  I  am  deeply  grateful.  It  was  thought, 
at  the  time,  that  Mr.  Palmer,  the  leg-maker, 
might  be  able  to  adapt  some  form  of  arm  to 
my  left  shoulder,  as  on  that  side  there  re 
mained  five  inches  of  the  arm-bone,  which  I 
could  move  to  a  moderate  extent.  The  hope 
proved  illusory,  as  the  stump  was  always  too 
tender  to  bear  any  pressure.  The  hospital 
referred  to  was  in  charge  of  several  surgeons 
while  I  was  an  inmate,  and  was  at  all  times 
a  clean  and  pleasant  home.  It  was  filled  with 
men  who  had  lost  one  arm  or  leg,  or  one  of 
each,  as  happened  now  and  then.  I  saw  one 
man  who  had  lost  both  legs,  and  one  who  had 
parted  with  both  arms ;  but  none,  like  myself, 
stripped  of  every  limb.  There  were  collected 
in  this  place  hundreds  of  these  cases,  which 
gave  to  it,  with  reason  enough,  the  not  very 
pleasing  title  of  Stump  Hospital. 

I  spent  here  three  and  a  half  months,  be 
fore  my  transfer  to  the  United  States  Army 
Hospital  for  Injuries  and  Diseases  of  the  Ner 
vous  System.  Every  morning  I  was  carried 
out  in  an  arm-chair  and  placed  in  the  library, 
where  some  one  was  always  ready  to  write  or 
read  for  me,  or  to  fill  my  pipe.  The  doctors 
lent  me  medical  books ;  the  ladies  brought  me 


THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW      131 

luxuries  and  fed  me;  and,  save  that  I  was 
helpless  to  a  degree  which  was  humiliating,  I 
was  as  comfortable  as  kindness  could  make  me. 
I  amused  myself  at  this  time  by  noting  in 
my  mind  all  that  I  could  learn  from  other 
limbless  folk,  and  from  myself,  as  to  the  pe 
culiar  feelings  which  were  noticed  in  regard 
to  lost  members.  I  found  that  the  great 
mass  of  men  who  had  undergone  amputa 
tions  for  many  months  felt  the  usual  con 
sciousness  that  they  still  had  the  lost  limb. 
It  itched  or  pained,  or  was  cramped,  but 
never  felt  hot  or  cold.  If  they  had  painful 
sensations  referred  to  it,  the  conviction  of  its 
existence  continued  unaltered  for  long  peri 
ods;  but  where  no  pain  was  felt  in  it,  then 
by  degrees  the  sense  of  having  that  limb 
faded  away  entirely.  I  think  we  may  to 
some  extent  explain  this.  The  knowledge 
we  possess  of  any  part  is  made  up  of  the 
numberless  impressions  from  without  which 
affect  its  sensitive  surfaces,  and  which  are 
transmitted  through  its  nerves  to  the  spinal 
nerve-cells,  and  through  them,  again,  to  the 
brain.  We  are  thus  kept  endlessly  informed 
as  to  the  existence  of  parts,  because  the  im 
pressions  which  reach  the  brain  are,  by  a  law 
of  our  being,  referred  by  us  to  the  part  from 


132      THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

which  they  come.  Now,  when  the  part  is  cut 
off,  the  nerve-trunks  which  led  to  it  and  from 
it,  remaining  capable  of  being  impressed  by 
irritations,  are  made  to  convey  to  the  brain 
from  the  stump  impressions  which  are,  as 
usual,  referred  by  the  brain  to  the  lost  parts 
to  which  these  nerve-threads  belonged.  In 
other  words,  the  nerve  is  like  a  bell-wire. 
You  may  pull  it  at  any  part  of  its  course, 
and  thus  ring  the  bell  as  well  as  if  you  pulled 
at  the  end  of  the  wire;  but,  in  any  case, 
the  intelligent  servant  will  refer  the  pull  to 
the  front  door,  and  obey  it  accordingly.  The 
impressions  made  on  the  severed  ends  of  the 
nerve  are  due  often  to  changes  in  the  stump 
during  healing,  and  consequently  cease  when 
it  has  healed,  so  that  finally,  in  a  very  healthy 
sutmp,  no  such  impressions  arise ;  the  brain 
ceases  to  correspond  with  the  lost  leg,  and, 
as  les  absents  ont  toujours  tort,  it  is  no  longer 
remembered  or  recognized.  But  in  some 
cases,  such  as  mine  proved  at  last  to  my  sor 
row,  the  ends  of  the  nerves  undergo  a  curious 
alteration,  and  get  to  be  enlarged  and  al 
tered.  This  change,  as  I  have  seen  in  my 
practice  of  medicine,  sometimes  passes  up 
the  nerves  toward  the  centers,  and  occasions 
a  more  or  less  constant  irritation  of  the  nerve- 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW   133 

fibers,  producing  neuralgia,  which  is  usually 
referred  by  the  brain  to  that  part  of  the  lost 
limb  to  which  the  affected  nerve  belonged. 
This  pain  keeps  the  brain  ever  mindful  of 
the  missing  part,  and,  imperfectly  at  least, 
preserves  to  the  man  a  consciousness  of  pos 
sessing  that  which  he  has  not. 

Where  the  pains  come  and  go,  as  they  do 
in  certain  cases,  the  subjective  sensations 
thus  occasioned  are  very  curious,  since  in 
such  cases  the  man  loses  and  gains,  and  loses 
and  regains,  the  consciousness  of  the  presence 
of  the  lost  parts,  so  that  he  will  tell  you, 
"Now  I  feel  my  thumb,  now  I  feel  my 
little  finger."  I  should  also  add  that  nearly 
every  person  who  has  lost  an  arm  above  the 
elbow  feels  as  though  the  lost  member  were 
bent  at  the  elbow,  and  at  times  is  vividly 
impressed  with  the  notion  that  his  fingers  are 
strongly  flexed. 

Other  persons  present  a  peculiarity  which 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  for.  Where  the 
leg,  for  instance,  has  been  lost,  they  feel  as 
if  the  foot  were  present,  but  as  though  the  leg 
were  shortened.  Thus,  if  the  thigh  has  been 
taken  off,  there  seems  to  them  to  be  a  foot  at 
the  knee ;  if  the  arm,  a  hand  seems  to  be  at 
the  elbow,  or  attached  to  the  stump  itself. 


134      THE  CASE   OF   GEOEGE   DEDLOW 

Before  leaving  Nashville  I  had  begun  to 
suffer  the  most  acute  pain  in  my  left  hand, 
especially  the  little  finger ;  and  so  perfect  was 
the  idea  which  was  thus  kept  up  of  the  real 
presence  of  these  missing  parts  that  I  found 
it  hard  at  times  to  believe  them  absent.  Often 
at  night  I  would  try  with  one  lost  hand  to 
grope  for  the  other.  As,  however,  I  had  no 
pain  in  the  right  arm,  the  sense  of  the  exis 
tence  of  that  limb  gradually  disappeared,  as 
did  that  of  my  legs  also. 

Everything  was  done  for  my  neuralgia 
which  the  doctors  could  think  of;  and  at 
length,  at  my  suggestion,  I  was  removed,  as 
I  have  said,  from  the  Stump  Hospital  to  the 
United  States  Army  Hospital  for  Injuries 
and  Diseases  of  the  Nervous  System.  It  was 
a  pleasant,  suburban,  old-fashioned  country- 
seat,  its  gardens  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
wooden,  one-story  wards,  shaded  by  fine  trees. 
There  were  some  three  hundred  cases  of  epi 
lepsy,  paralysis,  St.  Vitus's  dance,  and  wounds 
§  of  nerves.  On  one  side  of  me  lay  a  poor  fellow, 
a  Dane,  who  had  the  same  burning  neuralgia 
with  which  I  once  suffered,  and  which  I  now 
learned  was  only  too  common.  This  man 
had  become  hysterical  from  pain.  He  car 
ried  a  sponge  in  his  pocket,  and  a  bottle  of 


THE  CASE   OP    GEOEGE   DEDLOW      135 

water  in  oue  hand,  with  which  he  constantly 
wetted  the  burning  hand.  Every  sound  in 
creased  his  torture,  and  he  even  poured  water 
into  his  boots  to  keep  himself  from  feeling 
too  sensibly  the  rough  friction  of  his  soles 
when  walking.  Like  him,  I  was  greatly 
eased  by  having  small  doses  of  morphia  in 
jected  under  the  skin  of  my  shoulder  with  a 
hollow  needle  fitted  to  a  syringe. 

As  I  improved  under  the  morphia  treat 
ment,  I  began  to  be  disturbed  by  the  horrible 
variety  of  suffering  about  me.  One  man 
walked  sideways;  there  was  one  who  could 
not  smell ;  another  was  dumb  from  an  explo 
sion.  In  fact,  every  one  had  his  own  ab 
normal  peculiarity.  Near  me  was  a  strange 
case  of  palsy  of  the  muscles  called  rhom 
boids,  whose  office  it  is  to  hold  down  the 
shoulder-blades  flat  on  the  back  during  the 
motions  of  the  arms,  which,  in  themselves, 
were  strong  enough.  When,  however,  he 
lifted  these  members,  the  shoulder-blades 
stood  out  from  the  back  like  wings,  and  got 
him  the  sobriquet  of  the  "Angel."  In  my 
ward  were  also  the  cases  of  fits,  which  very 
much  annoyed  me,  as  upon  any  great  change 
in  the  weather  it  was  common  to  have  a 

dozen  convulsions  in  view  at  once.    Dr.  Neek, 
o 


136      THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

one  of  our  physicians,  told  me  that  on  one 
occasion  a  hundred  and  fifty  fits  took  place 
within  thirty-six  hours.  On  my  complaining 
of  these  sights,  whence  I  alone  could  not  fly, 
I  was  placed  in  the  paralytic  and  wound 
ward,  which  I  found  much  more  pleasant. 

A  month  of  skilful  treatment  eased  me 
entirely  of  my  aches,  and  I  then  began  to 
experience  certain  curious  feelings,  upon 
which,  having  nothing  to  do  and  nothing 
to  do  anything  with,  I  reflected  a  good  deal. 
It  was  a  good  while  before  I  could  correctly 
explain  to  my  own  satisfaction  the  phenom 
ena  which  at  this  time  I  was  called  upon 
to  observe.  By  the  various  operations  al 
ready  described  I  had  lost  about  four  fifths 
of  my  weight.  As  a  consequence  of  this  I 
ate  much  less  than  usual,  and  could  scarcely 
have  consumed  the  ration  of  a  soldier.  I  slept 
also  but  little;  for,  as  sleep  is  the  repose  of 
the  brain,  made  necessary  by  the  waste  of  its 
tissues  during  thought  and  voluntary  move 
ment,  and  as  this  latter  did  not  exist  in  my 
case,  I  needed  only  that  rest  which  was  neces 
sary  to  repair  such  exhaustion  of  the  nerve- 
centers  as  was  induced  by  thinking  and  the 
automatic  movements  of  the  viscera. 

I  observed  at  this  time  also  that  my  heart, 


THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW      137 

in  place  of  beating,  as  it  once  did,  seventy- 
eight  in  the  minute,  pulsated  only  forty-five 
times  in  this  interval — a  fact  to  be  easily 
explained  by  the  perfect  quiescence  to  which 
I  was  reduced,  and  the  consequent  absence  of 
that  healthy  and  constant  stimulus  to  the 
muscles  of  the  heart  which  exercise  occa 
sions. 

Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks,  my 
physical  health  was  good,  which,  I  confess, 
surprised  me,  for  this  among  other  reasons : 
It  is  said  that  a  burn  of  two  thirds  of  the 
surface  destroys  life,  because  then  all  the  ex 
cretory  matters  which  this  portion  of  the 
glands  of  the  skin  evolved  are  thrown  upon 
the  blood,  and  poison  the  man,  just  as  hap 
pens  in  an  animal  whose  skin  the  physiologist 
has  varnished,  so  as  in  this  way  to  destroy 
its  function.  Yet  here  was  I,  having  lost  at 
least  a  third  of  my  skin,  and  apparently  none 
the  worse  for  it. 

Still  more  remarkable,  however,  were  the 
psychical  changes  which  I  now  began  to  per 
ceive.  I  found  to  my  horror  that  at  times  I 
was  less  conscious  of  myself,  of  my  own  ex 
istence,  than  used  to  be  the  case.  This  sen 
sation  was  so  novel  that  at  first  it  quite 
bewildered  me.  I  felt  like  asking  some  one 


138      THE   CASE  OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW 

constantly  if  I  were  really  George  Dedlow  or 
not;  but,  well  aware  how  absurd  I  should 
seem  after  such  a  question,  I  refrained  from 
speaking  of  my  case,  and  strove  more  keenly 
to  analyze  my  feelings.  At  times  the  convic 
tion  of  my  want  of  being  myself  was  over 
whelming  and  most  painful.  It  was,  as  well 
as  I  can  describe  it,  a  deficiency  in  the  egoistic 
sentiment  of  individuality.  About  one  half 
of  the  sensitive  surface  of  my  skin  was  gone, 
and  thus  much  of  relation  to  the  outer  world 
destroyed.  As  a  consequence,  a  large  part 
of  the  receptive  central  organs  must  be  out 
of  employ,  and,  like  other  idle  things,  degen 
erating  rapidly.  Moreover,  all  the  great  cen 
tral  ganglia,  which  give  rise  to  movements  in 
the  limbs,  were  also  eternally  at  rest.  Thus 
one  half  of  me  was  absent  or  functionally 
dead.  This  set  me  to  thinking  how  much  a 
man  might  lose  and  yet  live.  If  I  were  un 
happy  enough  to  survive,  I  might  part  with 
my  spleen  at  least,  as  many  a  dog  has  done, 
and  grown  fat  afterwards.  The  other  organs 
with  which  we  breathe  and  circulate  the  blood 
would  be  essential ;  so  also  would  the  liver ; 
but  at  least  half  of  the  intestines  might  be 
dispensed  with,  and  of  course  all  of  the  limbs. 
And  as  to  the  nervous  system,  the  only  parts 


THE  CASE  OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW      139 

really  necessary  to  life  are  a  few  small  ganglia. 
Were  the  rest  absent  or  inactive,  we  should 
have  a  man  reduced,  as  it  were,  to  the  lowest 
terms,  and  leading  an  almost  vegetative  ex 
istence.  Would  such  a  being,  I  asked  myself, 
possess  the  sense  of  individuality  in  its  usual 
completeness,  even  if  his  organs  of  sensation 
remained,  and  he  were  capable  of  conscious 
ness?  Of  course,  without  them,  he  could 
not  have  it  any  more  than  a  dahlia  or  a  tulip. 
But  with  them— how  then  ?  I  concluded  that 
it  would  be  at  a  minimum,  and  that,  if  utter 
loss  of  relation  to  the  outer  world  were  capa 
ble  of  destroying  a  man's  consciousness  of 
himself,  the  destruction  of  half  of  his  sensi 
tive  surfaces  might  well  occasion,  in  a  less 
degree,  a  like  result,  and  so  diminish  his 
sense  of  individual  existence. 

I  thus  reached  the  conclusion  that  a  man 
is  not  his  brain,  or  any  one  part  of  it,  but  all 
of  his  economy,  and  that  to  lose  any  part 
must  lessen  this  sense  of  his  own  existence. 
I  found  but  one  person  who  properly  appre 
ciated  this  great  truth.  She  was  a  New  Eng 
land  lady,  from  Hartford— an  agent,  I  think, 
for  some  commission,  perhaps  the  Sanitary. 
After  I  had  told  her  my  views  and  feelings, 
she  said :  "  Yes,  I  comprehend.  The  frac- 


140      THE  CASE  OF   GEOEGE   DEDLOW 

tional  entities  of  vitality  are  embraced  in  the 
oneness  of  the  unitary  Ego.  Life,"  she  added, 
"is  the  garnered  condensation  of  objective 
impressions ;  and  as  the  objective  is  the  re 
mote  father  of  the  subjective,  so  must  indi 
viduality,  which  is  but  focused  subjectivity, 
suffer  and  fade  when  the  sensation  lenses,  by 
which  the  rays  of  impression  are  condensed, 
become  destroyed."  I  am  not  quite  clear  that 
I  fully  understood  her,  but  I  think  she  ap 
preciated  my  ideas,  and  I  felt  grateful  for 
her  kindly  interest. 

The  strange  want  I  have  spoken  of  now 
haunted  and  perplexed  me  so  constantly  that 
I  became  moody  and  wretched.  While  in 
this  state,  a  man  from  a  neighboring  ward 
fell  one  morning  into  conversation  with  the 
chaplain,  within  ear-shot  of  my  chair.  Some 
of  their  words  arrested  my  attention,  and  I 
turned  my  head  to  see  and  listen.  The 
speaker,  who  wore  a  sergeant's  chevron  and 
carried  one  arm  in  a  sling,  was  a  tall,  loosely 
made  person,  with  a  pale  face,  light  eyes  of 
a  washed-out  blue  tint,  and  very  sparse  yel 
low  whiskers.  His  mouth  was  weak,  both 
lips  being  almost  alike,  so  that  the  organ 
might  have  been  turned  upside  down  without 
affecting  its  expression.  His  forehead,  how- 


THE  CASE  OF   GEOEGE   DEDLOW     141 

ever,  was  high  and  thinly  covered  with  sandy 
hair.  I  should  have  said,  as  a  phrenologist, 
will  feeble;  emotional,  but  not  passionate; 
likely  to  be  an  enthusiast  or  a  weakly  bigot. 

I  caught  enough  of  what  passed  to  make 
me  call  to  the  sergeant  when  the  chaplain 
left  him. 

"Good  morning,"  said  he.  "How  do  you 
get  on?" 

"Not  at  all,"  I  replied.  "Where  were  you 
hit?" 

"  Oh,  at  Chancellorsville.  I  was  shot  in  the 
shoulder.  I  have  what  the  doctors  call  paral 
ysis  of  the  median  nerve,  but  I  guess  Dr. 
Neek  and  the  lightnin'  battery  will  fix  it. 
When  my  time  's  out  I  '11  go  back  to  Kear- 
sarge  and  try  on  the  school-teaching  again. 
I  Ve  done  my  share." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "you  're  better  off  than  I." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  in  more  ways  than 
one.  I  belong  to  the  New  Church.  It  's  a 
great  comfort  for  a  plain  man  like  me,  when 
he  's  weary  and  sick,  to  be  able  to  turn  away 
from  earthly  things  and  hold  converse  daily 
with  the  great  and  good  who  have  left  this 
here  world.  We  have  a  circle  in  Coates 
street.  If  it  wa'n't  for  the  consoling  I  get 
there,  I  'd  of  wished  myself  dead  many  a  time. 


142      THE  CASE   OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW 

I  ain't  got  kith  or  kin  on  earth ;  but  this 
matters  little,  when  one  can  just  talk  to  them 
daily  and  know  that  they  are  in  the  spheres 
above  us." 

"It  must  be  a  great  comfort/'  I  replied, 
"  if  only  one  could  believe  it." 

"  Believe  !  "  he  repeated.  "  How  can  you 
help  it  ?  Do  you  suppose  anything  dies  ? " 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  The  soul  does  not,  I  am  sure ; 
and  as  to  matter,  it  merely  changes  form." 

"  But  why,  then,"  said  he,  "  should  not  the 
dead  soul  talk  to  the  living?  In  space,  no 
doubt,  exist  all  forms  of  matter,  merely  in 
finer,  more  ethereal  being.  You  can't  sup 
pose  a  naked  soul  moving  about  without  a 
bodily  garment— no  creed  teaches  that;  and 
if  its  new  clothing  be  of  like  substance  to 
ours,  only  of  ethereal  fineness,— a  more  deli 
cate  recrystallization  about  the  eternal  spir 
itual  nucleus, — must  it  not  then  possess 
powers  as  much  more  delicate  and  refined  as 
is  the  new  material  in  which  it  is  reclad  ? " 

"Not  very  clear,"  I  answered;  "but,  after 
all,  the  thing  should  be  susceptible  of  some 
form  of  proof  to  our  present  senses." 

"  And  so  it  is,"  said  he.  "  Come  to-morrow 
with  me,  and  you  shall  see  and  hear  for  your 
self." 


THE  CASE   OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW      143 

"I  will,"  said  I,  "if  the  doctor  will  lend 
me  the  ambulance." 

It  was  so  arranged,  as  the  surgeon  in 
charge  was  kind  enough,  as  usual,  to  oblige 
me  with  the  loan  of  his  wagon,  and  two 
orderlies  to  lift  my  useless  trunk. 

On  the  day  following  I  found  myself,  with 
my  new  comrade,  in  a  house  in  Coates1  street, 
where  a  "circle"  was  in  the  daily  habit  of 
meeting.  So  soon  as  I  had  been  comfortably 
deposited  in  an  arm-chair,  beside  a  large  pine 
table,  the  rest  of  those  assembled  seated  them 
selves,  and  for  some  time  preserved  an 
unbroken  silence.  During  this  pause  I  scru 
tinized  the  persons  present.  Next  to  me,  on 
my  right,  sat  a  flabby  man,  with  ill-marked, 
baggy  features  and  injected  eyes.  He  was, 
as  I  learned  afterwards,  an  eclectic  doctor, 
who  had  tried  his  hand  at  medicine  and  sev 
eral  of  its  quackish  variations,  finally  settling 
down  on  eclecticism,  which  I  believe  professes 
to  be  to  scientific  medicine  what  vegetarianism 
is  to  common-sense,  every-day  dietetics.  Next 
to  him  sat  a  female — authoress,  I  think,  of 
two  somewhat  feeble  novels,  and  much  pleas- 
anter  to  look  at  than  her  books.  She  was,  I 
thought,  a  good  deal  excited  at  the  prospect 
of  spiritual  revelations.  Her  neighbor  was  a 


144     THE  CASE   OF   GEORGE    DEDLOW 

pallid,  care-worn  young  woman,  with  very 
red  lips,  and  large  brown  eyes  of  great 
beauty.  She  was,  as  I  learned  afterwards, 
a  magnetic  patient  of  the  doctor,  and  had 
deserted  her  husband,  a  master  mechanic,  to 
follow  this  new  light.  The  others  were,  like 
myself,  strangers  brought  hither  by  mere 
curiosity.  One  of  them  was  a  lady  in  deep 
black,  closely  veiled.  Beyond  her,  and  op 
posite  to  me,  sat  the  sergeant,  and  next  to 
him  the  medium,  a  man  named  Brink.  He 
wore  a  good  deal  of  jewelry,  and  had  large 
black  side-whiskers— a  shrewd- visaged,  large- 
nosed,  full-lipped  man,  formed  by  nature  to 
appreciate  the  pleasant  things  of  sensual 
existence. 

Before  I  had  ended  my  survey,  he  turned 
to  the  lady  in  black,  and  asked  if  she  wished 
to  see  any  one  in  the  spirit-world. 

She  said,  "  Yes,"  rather  feebly. 

"  Is  the  spirit  present  ? "  he  asked.  Upon 
which  two  knocks  were  heard  in  affirmation. 
"  Ah  !  "  said  the  medium,  "the  name  is — it  is 
the  name  of  a  child.  It  is  a  male  child.  It 
is—" 

"  Alfred  !"  she  cried.  "  Great  Heaven  !  My 
child  !  My  boy  !  " 

On   this   the  medium   arose,  and  became 


THE  CASE  OF    GEORGE   DEDLOW     145 

strangely  convulsed.  "I  see/'  he  said— " I 
see — a  fair-haired  boy.  I  see  blue  eyes — I 
see  above  you,  beyond  you — "  at  the  same 
time  pointing  fixedly  over  her  head. 

She  turned  with  a  wild  start.  "Where— 
whereabouts  ? " 

"A  blue-eyed  boy,"  he  continued,  "over 
your  head.  He  cries— he  says,  l  Mama, 
mama ! ' ' 

The  effect  of  this  on  the  woman  was 
unpleasant.  She  stared  about  her  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  exclaiming,  "I  come — I  am  com 
ing,  Alfy  !  "  fell  in  hysterics  on  the  floor. 

Two  or  three  persons  raised  her,  and  aided 
her  into  an  adjoining  room;  but  the  rest 
remained  at  the  table,  as  though  well  accus 
tomed  to  like  scenes. 

After  this  several  of  the  strangers  were 
called  upon  to  write  the  names  of  the  dead 
with  whom  they  wished  to  communicate. 
The  names  were  spelled  out  by  the  agency 
of  affirmative  knocks  when  the  correct  letters 
were  touched  by  the  applicant,  who  was 
furnished  with  an  alphabet-card  upon  which 
he  tapped  the  letters  in  turn,  the  medium, 
meanwhile,  scanning  his  face  very  keenly. 
With  some,  the  names  were  readily  made 
out.  With  one,  a  stolid  personage  of  disbe- 


14G   THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW 

lieving  type,  every  attempt  failed,  until  at 
last  the  spirits  signified  by  knocks  that  he 
was  a  disturbing  agency,  and  that  while  he 
remained  all  our  efforts  would  fail.  Upon 
this  some  of  the  company  proposed  that  he 
should  leave,  of  which  invitation  he  took 
advantage,  with  a  skeptical  sneer  at  the  whole 
performance. 

As  he  left  us,  the  sergeant  leaned  over  and 
whispered  to  the  medium,  who  next  addressed 
himself  to  me.  "  Sister  Euphemia,"  he  said, 
indicating  the  lady  with  large  eyes,  "will 
act  as  your  medium.  I  am  unable  to  do 
more.  These  things  exhaust  my  nervous 
system." 

"  Sister  Euphemia,"  said  the  doctor,  "  will 
aid  us.  Think,  if  you  please,  sir,  of  a  spirit, 
and  she  will  endeavor  to  summon  it  to  our 
circle." 

Upon  this  a  wild  idea  came  into  my  head. 
I  answered :  "  I  am  thinking  as  you  directed 
me  to  do." 

The  medium  sat  with  her  arms  folded, 
looking  steadily  at  the  center  of  the  table. 
For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence.  Then 
a  series  of  irregular  knocks  began.  "Are 
you  present  ? "  said  the  medium. 

The  affirmative  raps  were  twice  given. 


THE   CASE   OF   GEORGE  DEDLOW      147 

"I  should  think,"  said  the  doctor,  "that 
there  were  two  spirits  present." 

His  words  sent  a  thrill  through  my  heart. 

"Are  there  two?"  he  questioned. 

A  double  rap. 

"Yes,  two,"  said  the  medium.  "Will  it 
please  the  spirits  to  make  us  conscious  of 
their  names  in  this  world  ? " 

A  single  knock.     "No." 

"Will  it  please  them  to  say  how  they  are 
called  in  the  world  of  spirits  ? " 

Again  came  the  irregular  raps — 3,  4,  8,  6; 
then  a  pause,  and  3,  4,  8,  7. 

"I  think,"  said  the  authoress,  "they  must 
be  numbers.  Will  the  spirits,"  she  said,  "  be 
good  enough  to  aid  us?  Shall  we  use  the 
alphabet  ? » 

"  Yes,"  was  rapped  very  quickly. 

"  Are  these  numbers  ? " 

"Yes,"  again. 

"  I  will  write  them,"  she  added,  and,  doing 
so,  took  up  the  card  and  tapped  the  let 
ters.  The  spelling  was  pretty  rapid,  and  ran 
thus  as  she  tapped,  in  turn,  first  the  letters, 
and  last  the  numbers  she  had  already  set 
down : 

"  UNITED  STATES  ARMY  MEDICAL  MUSEUM, 
Nos.  3486,  3487." 


148      THE  CASE  OF   GEORGE   DEDLOW 

The  medium  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  ex 
pression. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  said  I,  "  they  are  my  legs 
— my  legs  !  " 

What  followed,  I  ask  no  one  to  believe 
except  those  who,  like  myself,  have  com 
muned  with  the  things  of  another  sphere. 
Suddenly  I  felt  a  strange  return  of  my  self- 
consciousness.  I  was  reindividualized,  so  to 
speak.  A  strange  wonder  filled  me,  and,  to 
the  amazement  of  every  one,  I  arose,  and, 
staggering  a  little,  walked  across  the  room 
on  limbs  invisible  to  them  or  me.  It  was  no 
wonder  I  staggered,  for,  as  I  briefly  reflected, 
my  legs  had  been  nine  months  in  the  strongest 
alcohol.  At  this  instant  all  my  new  friends 
crowded  around  me  in  astonishment.  Pres 
ently,  however,  I  felt  myself  sinking  slowly. 
My  legs  were  going,  and  in  a  moment  I  was 
resting  feebly  on  my  two  stumps  upon  the 
floor.  It  was  too  much.  All  that  was  left 
of  me  fainted  and  rolled  over  senseless. 

I  have  little  to  add.  I  am  now  at  home  in 
the  West,  surrounded  by  every  form  of  kind 
ness  and  every  possible  comfort ;  but  alas ! 
I  have  so  little  surety  of  being  myself  that  I 
doubt  my  own  honesty  in  drawing  my  pen 
sion,  and  feel  absolved  from  gratitude  to 


THE  CASE  OF  GEORGE  DEDLOW   149 

those  who  are  kind  to  a  being  who  is  uncer 
tain  of  being  enough  himself  to  be  conscien 
tiously  responsible.  It  is  needless  to  add 
that  I  am  not  a  happy  fraction  of  a  man, 
and  that  I  am  eager  for  the  day  when  I  shall 
rejoin  the  lost  members  of  my  corporeal 
family  in  another  and  a  happier  world. 


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